Flight of the McFlyinator
by Bob Wright
Summary: A "what if" supercrossover. Marty, Doc, and several other 80s science characters try to get David Freeman back to 1978...before Doc's old nemesis can exploit him or worse. NOW COMPLETED.
1. The Vile Dr Dale Catledge

FLIGHT OF THE MCFLYINATOR  
BY  
BOB WRIGHT  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Throughout my recent life, I've frequently referred to the popular 80s characters you'll see immortalized (hopefully in the positive sense) in this story as "Science Incorporated," and have tried to think of ways to bring them together. What you are about to read is the most plausible thing I could think of. Since the films were for the most part released about the same time, the timeline in a way does make sense, sort of.  
  
I've always thought that Doc should have a heavy that matches well against him, like Biff does with Marty. Dr. Catledge is my attempt at this type of character.  
  
Marty McFly, Doc Brown, and all related Back to the Future characters and indicia are trademark copyrights of Universal City Studios. Honey I Shrunk the Kids and Flight of the Navigator are trademarks of Walt Disney Pictures. Johnny-5 and all related Short Circuit trademarks and indicia are copyrights of Tri-Star Pictures and PSO Enterprises. And now, as always, sit back and enjoy the story.  
  
ONE  
  
July 16, 1986 8:57 p.m.  
  
It was one of the most talked about places in all of Hill County. Horror stories abounded over what might be happening inside. Standing atop a tall mountain in the middle of the county and heavily guarded by security the likes of which were rarely seen elsewhere in the country, there was little else to discourage people from making their guesses. Nobody ever left K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries, not even for medical emergencies. All anyone knew was that impressive technology came out of it once every three months on average. And that was all that mattered to the man in charge of the facility.  
Dr. Dale Catledge never took a day off, which was impressive considering that he rarely did any actual work anymore. Sitting at his desk inside his private office—which he rarely even left anymore—he could see all the way from Bakersfield to the north to Hill Valley in the south from the huge windows set in place in his office on either wall. He rarely looked out them though. Most of his attention was spent looking at the various monitors set up on the wall in front of him, where he could watch the scientists doing his bidding at work throughout the massive factory that K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries now was.  
His rise to wealth had admittedly not been smooth. Several times his own creations hadn't worked, and he'd had to take credit for other persons' creations. Perhaps the largest of these was his creation of NASA's basic rocket system in the 50s, where'd he'd set up his associate, a Dr. Black or Green or one of those colorful names that he couldn't remember anymore, for the failure of his own system. The guy had been fired and from what he'd last heard had become an insane crackpot. Catledge, meanwhile, had risen to the top, becoming one of the nations most respected scientists, providing basic technology to NASA and the Defense Department for huge sums, and getting numerous awards from various organizations for his efforts. His net worth was now about $100 billion, augmented by his control in the burgeoning computer industry up the road in Silicon Valley. He'd become powerful enough that he could command his own private guard and could influence elections in Hill County.  
Of course, that had meant alienation from the rest of the normal world. His wife had left him in 1973, claiming he'd paid too much attention to work. Catledge couldn't have cared in the least. All his old associates had long since left him. His family was now his Newfoundland Haeckel, who lay at his feet, and the scientists and guards who worked for him. His agents went around the country annually, sucking up new talent to use for K.O.N.D.O.R., usually up and coming scientists or older discredited ones. Recent mass firings at Dynatechnics in Cleveland and Nova Robotics in Portland, Oregon had greatly swelled his staff. As they weren't allowed any contact with the outside world, their lives all but revolved around their work, which was just the way Catledge wanted it.  
There was a knock on his door. "Enter," Catledge said lazily. Two people came into his office. The first was his top assistant Dr. Norman Gately, a blathering sycophant whose main qualifications for his position was that he wouldn't dream of challenging Catledge's authority. The other was his new valet, Biff Tannen, a whimpering loser who he'd picked up in Hill Valley after his automotive business had failed. "You're dinner's ready, Dr. Catledge," the foolish waste of life (as far as Catledge was concerned) said, setting his boss's tray of roast steak on the desk in front of him.  
"Sir, we're ready to begin the time travel test, if you're ready," Dr. Gately said.  
"Good, good," Catledge said, rubbing his hands in delight. Time travel had always been the one thing he'd wanted to achieve more than anything throughout his life. He knew that if he could master it, he could conceivably go into the past and make himself even more powerful, perhaps even president or more. His favorite film had been The Terminator two years ago, and he planned to perhaps figure out how to create terminators of his own if he was able to enforce his will on the pathetic populace. Recent additions to his staff had given him more power with robotics. He just needed the apparatus to be able to use it.  
"Come on, Haeckel, we'll see if I've been given the jackpot here," he told his dog as he walked toward his private elevator. Biff picked up the tray and followed his boss into the elevator just as it closed. "You know, Dr. Catledge, I've been really interested in time travel," he told Catledge, who only slightly listened, "This one time, I thought I saw a flying DeLorean go past my..."  
"Dr. Gately, is Dr. Fugett sure his system is foolproof?" Catledge asked his assistant, ignoring Biff.  
"He says it is," Gately told him, "He did a run-through beforehand, and he said it went smoothly."  
"I should hope it is," Catledge said darkly, "Or I'll make him pay for wasting my money for so long."  
They stopped at the second floor, where they walked out onto a catwalk overlooking the main floor of the complex. Scientists milled here and there working on various contraptions. The object of Catledge's attention was a large black pyramid-shaped object near the far wall. "Dr. Marner," he addressed the nearest man on the catwalk, "Are we ready to go?"  
  
"Ready when you ask, Dr. Catledge," Dr. Howard Marner said. He was a recent addition to Catledge's staff, having been brought on board on board after the recent Nova disaster. "Okay Jim, Dr. Catledge is ready," he called down to the scientist nearest the pyramid.  
A silence fell over the building, everyone directing their attention to the mustached man. "Dr. Catledge," Dr. Jim Fugett announced to his superior, "Today, I will attempt to create what man has only dreamed for eons. With this device, I will travel one minute ahead in time."  
Applause swept through the facility. "First," Dr. Fugett said, "I will need to use this," he held up a vial of some kind of green liquid. "I call it Timox," he told the other scientists, "It allows for temporal displacement to occur by pushing a hole into the envelope of time around us." He poured the Timox into an opening near the door of the pyramid. "Timox needs a catalyst to activate it and to power the contraption," he went on, "For this purpose I have installed a water turbine inside the time device that will serve both these purposes." He threw a lever that started up the turbine with a loud roar. Catledge smiled; everything was going great so far.  
"I am now setting the displays to go one minute into the future," Dr. Fugett said, punching some displays on the big control panel, "Once I throw the main lever inside, I will be transported to 9:03 p.m. And now, I will attempt temporal displacement."  
He climbed into the time machine and closed the door. Moments later, the lights along the sides of the pyramid started glowing as the machine revved to life. "Oh boy, here we go!" Biff shook in delight, spilling Catledge's coffee all over the catwalk, "This is history, I just...."  
"Will you be quiet!"? Catledge snapped, "I'm trying to savor the moment!"  
Just then alarm sirens went off as the time machine's clanking became more frantic. Smoke poured out of openings in the side. Moments later the cone of the pyramid exploded off, and the structure warped from intense heat into the shape of a tidal wave. Dr. Fugett stumbled out coughing as the emergency crews extinguish the fires. "Sorry Dr. Catledge," the scientist said up to his boss, "I think I misjudged the amount of water needed to cool..."  
"You failed me, Fugett," Catledge said darkly, "I don't accept failure."  
He withdrew a gun from his pocket. Most of the other scientists turned away, familiar with what was now going to happen. "No, please Dr. Catledge, give me another chance!" Dr. Fugett pleaded, "It was just a slight deviation! If you'll just give me...!"  
A blast from Catledge's gun silenced him. "Everybody back to work!" Catledge growled at his employees, "I want another design submitted in three days and work begun on it. Tannen, Haeckel, we're going back upstairs!"  
The scientists slowly turned back to their experiments. The phone started ringing in another room. "I'll get it, "Gately said, hustling over the catwalk toward it.  
"Boy Dr. Catledge, you sure run a tight ship here," Marner said nervously to Catledge as he followed him and his entourage back to his elevator."  
"Fear, Dr. Marner, "Catledge told him, "it keeps everyone working their hardest. And only the hardest work can yield results."  
"Then I wonder why my business went under?" Biff wondered, "I worked hard."  
"Well some of us have what it takes to work in the real world, Tannen, and some of us don't," Catledge grumbled. He picked up his roast steak from Biff's tray. "This is cold, go cook another one!" he ordered, tossing the now worthless steak to Haeckel.  
"Dr. Catledge!" Gately stuck his head through the elevator door just before it closed, "I have some exciting news for you!""  
"It better be," Catledge growled, "What?"  
I just got off the phone with Dr. Farraday at NASA, sir; he has just made the discovery of a lifetime," Gately said grandly.  
"And what might that be, Dr. Gately?" Catledge asked. Gately motioned his closer and whispered in his ear. Catledge's expression immediately brightened. "He's sure of this?" he asked his second in command.  
"He's positive, sir, "Gately reassured him.  
"Well this may be some good news after all," Catledge smiled. "Call him and tell him I'll be over as soon as possible."  
"Right," Gately disappeared as the elevator door closed. "Tannen, ready my limo and tell the Hill County Airport to have my private jet up and running for departure in an hour," Catledge told Biff, "We're going to Cape Canaveral."  
"Right away, Dr. Catledge," Biff ran down the hall to his quarters once they reached the boss's level.  
"So what is this all about?" Marner asked Catledge as they entered his office.  
"Dr. Marner, we've just come across a way of time travel," Catledge said in a bated breath, "We'll have some fine-tuning to do with it, but the technology is now ours...along with irrefutable proof." 


	2. A Serious Rift in the SpaceTime Continuu...

TWO  
  
July 17, 1986 9:00 A.M.  
  
"Be careful with that end of the engine, Marty, I can't afford to have any damage inflicted on it before the judging," Dr. Emmett L. Brown told his associate as they unloaded his new fuel cell motor from the back of his truck outside the Fort Lauderdale Convention Center.  
"Don't worry, Doc, it's not that heavy," Marty McFly told his mentor, "You know, I think we've got a good chance of winning first place with this."  
"Winning isn't important here, Marty, but if we can convince enough of the judges that fusion is the way of the future, maybe we might be able to get less oil on the road and safer fuels into our cars in the very near future," Doc said, "And especially in the next decade with the..." He stopped short and shook his head, not willing to give away too much of the future. Marty was all too aware of this complex in his friend; he'd been all over the space-time continuum and had seen everything, but owing to his desire not to let out too much about the future was reluctant to disclose much of what he'd seen. No matter. Marty was just glad to have him back. He'd returned about two months ago, ready to resume the normal life he'd been living before he'd discovered time travel. He'd needed enough of a padding of time to allow people to assume he'd met Clara in New Jersey and had a quick marriage and had adopted her kids.  
"You know Doc, it's a shame we can't tell anyone about how we discovered time travel," he told his mentor as they entered the building.  
"I suppose part of it is, Marty, but if we were to, then everyone would be clamoring for us to duplicate that technology, and it would be used conceivably for uncouth purposes," Doc told him. "You yourself saw what could have happened with Biff's Hell Valley."  
"I know, Doc, but it's a shame we can't share it with anyone," Marty said, "I'm sure a lot of the people in here would be interested that you're not just a crackpot."  
Doc merely forced a smile. The convention center was packed to the roof with some of the nation's best scientists, all vying for the Thomas A. Edison Invention of the Year Award. While Doc had reservations about revealing or tampering with the future, he'd been quite interested in continuing his inventing streak with the fusion technology he'd witnessed in the future, saying it would be better for mankind's fate. As it wasn't directly based on anyone else's research, and he was sure it wouldn't be the best invention at the Convention, which he'd attended some years ago for a stretch, he was quite willing to give it a go.  
"You go put the motor in its section, Marty," the scientist told his friend as they approached the front desk, "I'll go book us in. We're in number 5B, which is about two rows down from here if I'm not mistaken from my last trip here."  
"Right, catch you later, Doc," Marty immediately regretted agreeing to this, as the motor was extremely heavy to be carried by just one person. He staggered around the convention center floor, nearly colliding with several other hopeful scientists, until he finally reached the pedestal on which their creation would rest until judging was complete two days from now. Dropping it into place, he'd stopped to wipe his brow. He was hoping they'd do well. Doc had been looking forward to making a comeback in the scientific community ever since he'd been laughed clean off the floor at the last convention he'd gone to in 1974 for disclosing his theories on time travel. He'd spent the last four months putting it together, with a little help from Jules and Verne, along with Jennifer whenever she could get spare time. The old man had come back to life again while he was building it, and Marty was praying that all that hard work hadn't been for nothing.  
He glanced around at some of the nearer exhibits. A lot of them seemed to be computer-related, he thought. A few displays to the right dealt with robotics; some creepy spider-like things were crawling around to the amusement of several judges. And three displays over was a guy showing of some kind of cordless phone you could put in your pocket. But the one thing that caught Marty's attention most was a strange ray-like thing two displays down in the row across from the one the fusion engine was in. He strode over and examined it. Steam hissed from it, and it was covered with all sorts of glowing lights and displays, much like several of Doc's past creations. "Neat," he said.  
"My dad built it in his attic," came a kid's voice behind him. Marty turned to find himself looking at a bespectacled kid of about ten who looked much like what he'd always imagined Doc looking like at ten. "Well, he seems to have done a good job, kid," he told the youngster, "What exactly does it do?"  
"Nick, where are the apples for the display?" a girl who Marty thought was almost—almost—as attractive as Jennifer asked, striding over to the kid.  
"I gave them to you, Amy," the boy protested.  
"No you didn't," she told him, "They were right here a minute ago." She noticed Marty was watching. "You didn't taken them, did you?" she asked him suspiciously.  
"No, I've just been watching," Marty said quickly, turning out his pockets to prove his innocence.  
"Any luck?" asked the children's father, whom Marty noticed was pretty much an older version of his son.  
"No Dad," the girl told him, I couldn't find them anywhere."  
"Marty," Doc called from the top of the aisle, several forms in his hand.  
"Over here, Doc," Marty called to him. The scientist ran over. "I thought I told you not to leave..." he started to say, but then noticed the man. "Wayne Szelinski!" he exclaimed, "My old pupil!"  
"Doctor Brown," Wayne was equally as surprised to see him, "What are you doing here?"  
"Oh, just thought I'd drop in and see if I've still got the touch," Doc said, shaking his hand.  
"You know him, Doc?" Marty asked.  
"Yes Marty, Wayne here was once my prize pupil when I was teaching at Cal State-Bakersfield," Doc explained, "His aptitude on the matters of mass and volume were among the best I ever saw."  
"And here's what I managed to get out of it, Dr. Brown, behold my shrinking machine," Wayne gestured to his creation.  
"Shrinking machine?" Doc examined it closely, "Very interesting. This constitutes something I've always envisioned you working on. Have you managed to test it successfully?"  
"Uh, yeah, I think you could say that," Wayne said quickly. Marty couldn't help noticing Nick and Amy exchanging suspicious glances that he couldn't quite put his finger on.  
"Well I wouldn't mind seeing a demonstration of it when your time comes, it'll be a truly visual treat," Doc said. Turning back to his friend, he said, "I'm going to go get the newspaper from the tray out front, Marty; I wasn't able to peruse one at the hotel."  
"Right, I'll be here when you get back, Doc," Marty said. He examined the shrinking machine thoroughly. "I've always imagined what one of these things would look like," he said, "How exactly does it shrink things?"  
"Well, all matter's essentially made up of empty space, and what this does is eliminate that empty space," Wayne explained, "I use the apples to test it on; I have no clue where they got to, though. I can probably find a replacement object if I look hard enough."  
"I can get you a Pepsi bottle if you need it," Marty volunteered. He looked around the convention center. "You know any of the other guys in here, because I don't know any of them," he asked.  
"Wayne!" shouted a guy from across the way that Marty thought looked a lot like the guy in the Police Academy films. Although he'd never seen the guy before, Wayne recognized him immediately. "Newton Crosby!" he cried, embracing the man, "It's been a long time since I've seen you!"  
"Not since high school, I think," the newcomer said, "What've you been up to lately?"  
"I'm presenting my shrinking machine," Wayne pointed to his contraption, "How about you?"  
"Oh I've been working on creating the first robotic house servant," Newton said, "I would have gotten it done sooner, but Nova Robotics tried to make it into a weapon, so I quit and started my own business in Montana with my fiancé."  
"Uh, I heard about that," Marty interceded, "At Nova. Didn't one of those things go on a rampage all over Oregon?"  
"Well the press can blow things way out of proportion, kid," Newton said, "And besides, Nova was a hellhole. I only went there because they had the money I needed to continue my research. Are you Wayne's son?"  
"Uh, no, I'm..."  
"Marty!" came Doc's shout from all the way across the convention center. Marty looked up to see him barreling toward him with the same crazed look on his face he always got when something was quite wrong. "Marty, please come with me now, there's something of great importance we need to discuss," the scientist said when he'd reached him. Taking Marty by the hand, he dragged him all the way across the building until they reached the men's room. Doc locked the door and checked under all the stalls to make sure they were alone. "Marty, there's been a serious breech in the space-time continuum!" he exclaimed once he was sure they were alone.  
"Whoa, wait a minute Doc, what are you talking about?" Marty asked.  
"Read this!" Doc handed him the paper. "Shrimp boat fisherman revolt on limited supplies given..." Marty read.  
"Not that story!" Doc flipped the newspaper over, "This one!" He pointed to the big headline. "Boy Found Unaged Eight Years After Disappearance," Marty read. His eyes widened as he read on, "A twelve-year- old Fort Lauderdale boy was found alive yesterday eight years after he vanished. While this may seem just another miracle story, the amazing part is that it's almost as if he never left. David Scott Freeman is still twelve years old when he should be twenty. Authorities are...." He stopped reading in shock. "He hasn't aged in eight years!?" he asked Doc, "We sure as hell didn't do that, did we Doc?"  
"Not unless one or both of us were sleepwalking during the period where we were using the time vehicle, but I find that possibility highly unlikely," Doc concluded, "No, some other force has caused this disruption in the space-time continuum, and likely one behind the comprehension of we mortal persons."  
"Authorities are investigating this strange incident and have no comment," Marty read on. He was unable to finish the rest of the story. "So what do we do, Doc?" he asked.  
"Fortunately, what this child has experienced is displacement into the future, which carries less consequences than if he had been transported to the past, but still it is a serious breech in the continuum nonetheless!" Doc said in his usual overly dramatic fashion, "Further down in that article it said NASA was looking into the matter, so I think it's safe to say that young David is located up at Cape Canaveral at the present. I put little faith in the scientists there to treat him with the respect of someone who goes through time, so it is imperative that we get him out of there and somehow return him to the point he experienced temporal displacement. If we leave now, we can be at NASA by noon, so there's not a moment to lose!"  
"But Doc, we can't just leave the engine here unattended!" Marty protested.  
"Secondary matters now, Marty; the time ripple effect is no doubt taking over even as we speak!" Doc unlocked the door and led his friend toward the front door.  
"Hey Doctor Brown," Wayne ran over, "Are you all right? I never got to introduce you to..."  
"Can't talk now, Wayne," Doc said breathlessly, "Have to go now, big emergency, my, um, husband was bitten by a, uh, mule."  
"What?" Wayne looked really confused.  
"I'll explain later," Doc said, backing toward the front door, "Come meet me at the lobby of the Howard Johnson at six, I'll explain everything."  
He and Marty ran outside. Wayne children watched him go with disapproving looks. "Was he always this strange, Dad?" Amy asked with eyebrows raised.  
"Sort of," Wayne said, confusion on his face at his mentor's behavior, "He always was a rebel of sorts."  
Outside, Marty climbed into the passenger seat of Doc's truck. "There's just one problem here, Doc; how're we going to get into NASA?" he had to ask the old man, "That's not like just walking into the supermarket."  
"I know, Marty," Doc admitted as he started the engine, "But I'll think of something before we get to Cape Canaveral." 


	3. Breaking into NASA, Take One

THREE 

July 17, 1986

11:23 a.m.

Catledge reclined in his luxurious chair on board his private plane. He'd had a very comfortable flight over so far, with visions of dollar signs from his big discovery dancing in his head. He scratched Haeckel's head. "This is just what we've been looking for, my friend," he told the dog, "This will pave gold our path to power."

"Dr. Catledge, we're about a half hour out from Cape Canaveral," Gately said, sticking his head through the front door to the plane's lounge, "It's good we're coming when we are, because Dr. Faraday just called and said they're having some difficulties with the subject."

"Well I'll calm the subject down, believe you me, Dr. Gately," Catledge told him,

"Of course sir," Gately gave one of his suck-up smile, "Only you can maintain order the way you do."

"Dr. Catledge, here's your next round of drinks," Biff announced, striding from the back kitchen with his tray. As he approached his boss, however, he tripped and spilled two glasses of bacardis all over Catledge. Catledge growled and yanked his servant up. "Can't you do anything right!?" he bellowed, "Clean this stuff up!"

"Right away, Dr. Catledge, I'll get you a clean suit, too," Biff picked up the remnants of the glasses and scurried off. Catledge glowered after him. Tannen might be the next one on his hit list.

"Welcome to NASA," the tour guide announced to the group before her, "For the last thirty years, NASA has sent America into space to win the race to the moon and provides important research services, some of which has been spun off into everyday items that you use. Follow me and we'll begin our tour."

In the back of the group, Marty asided to Doc, "Kind of sugarcoating it, isn't she? I mean, with the Challenger blowing up earlier in the year, you'd think they'd be a bit more grounded in reality."

"Well, NASA's a bureaucracy now, Marty, they never accept blame," Doc muttered disgustedly, "and it's a shame no one will ever pay the ultimate price for sending those people to a fiery end."

"You don't seem too happy to be coming back here, Doc," Marty noticed.

"Let's just say that some of the most unpleasant memories of my life came when I was employed by the space program early in its existence," Doc told him evasively, "But I'd rather not go into detail about it. Once we round a corner, we'll break away from the group and see if we can find where they're keeping David Freeman."

"On your left," the tour guide was droning on, "you'll see our rocket test site. All our rockets here are provided by K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries in California, our major provider of technology for the last twenty-three years. To your right is a restricted area for our employees only. Our next stop will be the astronaut training area."

"See that cart?" Doc pointed to a laundry cart full of lab coats, "When everyone goes around that bend we'll take some of those suits and go into the employee area."

"Won't we need clearance, Doc?" Marty inquired.

"It's been a while since I was here, Marty, we may not," Doc told him. They sneaked over to the cart and each pulled out a lab coat. They huddled against the wall until their group had vanished, then ran over to the restricted area. "Excuse me sir," Doc asked a scientist who was approaching the entrance, "could you let us in? I forgot my access key from last night."

Marty really didn't expect this to work, but the scientist nodded and entered the code for them. They broke off from him once they were in the restricted area. "So where to now, Doc?" Marty asked.

"First stop is central control; perhaps they'd be kind enough to tell us where David is," Doc theorized.

"Or they could call the cops on us if they don't recognize us," Marty pointed out.

"That's chance I'm willing to take, Marty. The space-time continuum takes preference over one's personal desires," Doc told him.

It took them a few minutes to locate the front desk. The woman on duty was busy reading a magazine, and took several throat clearings from Doc to get her attention. "How may I help you gentlemen?" she asked in an overly cheery voice.

"Good morning," Doc greeted her, "I'm Dr. Julius von Braun, this is my intern Dr. Martin Baines, and we're here to see the big discovery."

"Really?" the receptionist asked, eyeing Marty's decidedly less than formal attire under his lab coat. Marty picked up her gist. "Uh, we just got the call on hour ago, didn't even have time for breakfast," he said quickly.

"Uh, do you have formal authorization to see him?" the receptionist inquired, "No one's allowed near him without a formal permit."

"Um, let me see here," Doc ran his hand through his pocket, "Oh yes, here it is," he whipped something out and held it up to the woman's face. Marty recognized it as his sleep-inducing Alpha Rhythm Generator. The receptionist fell backwards asleep. "You're really getting rather liberal with that, Doc," Marty said as his friend pocketed the futuristic device again, "First Jennifer and now her."

"It causes no permanent harm, so the risks in using it are minimized," Doc said. He hopped over the desk and typed some things into the main computer Marty couldn't quite make out. "Follow me," the scientist said, waving his arm down the corridor to the right.

Two minutes later, they found themselves entering NASA's maximum-security wing. There were rooms everywhere, and Marty wondered whether Doc could really know where David was, but the scientist never wavered. Finally, he pointed out the room at the far end of the corridor with an open door. "He's in there," he announced.

The two of them stuck their heads into the admittedly narrow room. Marty saw David sitting on the small bed talking with a nurse only a little older than he himself was. Right in front of them was a strange riding lawnmower-like device that looked like it belonged in the convention. Doc cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he told the two people in the room, "I would like to have a word with David in private if that's okay."

David folded his arms across his chest. He looked a lot like Marty's friend Chris from back in Hill Valley—only a whole lot angrier, probably for good reason. "I'm not doing anything else you say!" the kid shouted defiantly, "So go away!"

"Look, Dave, we don't want to cause you any harm," Marty protested, "We want to help you get back to where you came from."

"I've never seen you two around here before," the nurse admitted, giving them suspicious looks.

"We're the new guys," Marty said quickly.

"Miss, I think we'd be able to make David's life more comfortable, if you'll just give is a minute," Doc pressed on.

"Yeah sure," David said smugly, "That's what they've said since I was brought here."

Doc shrugged wildly, seeing no other no other alternative but the direct truth of the matter. "All right, I've invented time travel, and I'd like to use it to get you home," he blurted out.

The nurse shook her head. "Boy, your people have been getting crazy lately," she muttered. She pressed the command thing on the tractor thing, on which Marty noticed the acronym RALF and which seemed to have numerous dispersal holes for whatever. "If these guys give you any trouble, David, give me a call; I'll be right up the hall."

"Sure thing, Carolyn," David told her as she and the robotic device left. His face brightened a bit as he stared Marty and Doc in the face. "What's this about time travel?" he asked excitedly.

"Doc here figured out how to do it last October," Marty told him, "He wants to use it to send you back to where you left the right time."

"Indeed, but first I need to know the specifics of what happened to bring you to here and now, David, so please, tell me everything that happened up to and including your temporal displacement," Doc told the boy, bending down to be on his level.

David sighed in resignation, leading Marty to believe he'd been asked the same thing a hundred times before already. "Okay," he said, "It was the Fourth of July 1978, and I was going into the woods behind my house to pick up my brother Jeff from a friend's. He scared me, I chased after him and fell, and when I woke up I was here."

"And you have no idea what could have caused this temporal displacement?" Doc asked, quite curious now.

"No!" David shouted in frustration, how many times do I have to tell you bozos that!"

"All right, all right, you don't know," Doc waved his arms, "Marty and I don't work here, though, and to be perfectly frank I disapprove of the very nature of your dwelling here. It's not suited for someone of your age and seems to lack basic hygenal infrastructures. But then again that's just NASA's bureaucratic politics coming into play again. Anyway, is there anything else Marty and I should be aware of?"

The anger had drained from David's face as he realized Marty and Doc truly meant to help him. "Well, ever since I came back, I've been having these strange feelings, as if someone's taken over my mind. What I saw isn't what comes out on the generator things they have here. It's all coming from something over there, I think."

He pointed out the window at one of the big storage bays about a half mile over the NASA complex. Doc nodded, the pieces all starting to come together for him. "Thank you David, this makes our job a whole lot easier," he thanked the boy, "Now all we have to do is get you out of here and we should somehow be able to set things straight, because the longer you stay here in 1986, the more damage is done to the space-time..."

Just then there was the sound of pistols being cocked behind them. "All right you two, on your feet!" barked a harsh voice, "Turn around!"

The two veteran time travelers found themselves looking at a weasly-looking man who Marty compared strongly with the villain from the Police Academy films. "Who the hell are you two!?" this man barked.

"We could ask you the same question, pal," Marty retorted to him.

"G.W. Scroeder, head of security for this site," the man snapped, "And unlike either of you, I'm authorized to be here. So come on out of there now; you're coming with me!"

He nodded to his two thuggish henchmen, who pushed Marty and Doc at gunpoint into the corridor and sealed the door to David's cell, as it essentially was. "You can't lock the kid up like that!" Marty protested.

"We can do what we damn well please, kid, so keep walking!" Scroeder barked, pushing them harder, "Come on, move it, move it, move it!!"

"I demand to talk to the person in charge of all this!!" Doc bellowed, "I have so many complaints to lodge about what I've witnessed here and now that it would consume a list a mile long!"

"Good, because here's your chance!" Scroeder's goons shoved them into a lab. "Dr. Faraday, here's the intruders," he told the man in charge, a bespectacled middle-aged gentleman in a blue shirt and tie. "Thank you, Colonel Scroeder," this man said to the security man. He and several other doctors advanced toward Marty and Doc. "Okay, no song and dance routine, what are you doing here?" he asked with no sign of sympathy.

"Charles Faraday," Doc said with a snort, "So, you've finally worked your way up to the big man on the moon site. I guess the old patronage deal finally worked in your favor."

"You know this guy, Doc?" Marty asked.

"Yes, he was an office boy when I worked here previously. Worked his way up the corporate ladder here through the services of a man I thought was my friend," Doc's face glowed with contempt at whomever he was talking about.

Faraday's facial expression showed he didn't remember Doc. "Well, whoever you are, pal, ,let me remind you that you trespassed on government ground," he said sternly, "That's grounds for the filing of felony charges."

"You can't experiment on David like he's some kind of test animal!!" Doc bellowed, "I've seen what you're doing with him, and quite frankly I'm appalled! Keeping him caged up out there like a wild beast! And look at this!" he pointed to the various equipment connected to several computer screens all around the lab, "He's far too young to be subjected to any of this! You know what, actually, no one deserves to go through this!"

"Yes, well, I'm in charge here, and I don't have to listen to you tell me how to operated this project," Faraday said curtly, "So why don't you just shut your mouth, old man, and walk out that door before I call the cops."

"Go ahead and call the cops!" Doc barked, "And then I'll call the governor of Florida, the Justice Department, the Humane Society, and the Ronald McDonald House and expose you for the manipulator you are!" After a moment's pause he added, "And John Walsh, too!"

"The guy whose kid was killed a few years ago?" Marty asked, "What good would he do, Doc?"

"Lots of good, Marty, for what we've got here is right up his alley," Doc told him.

"You'll do none of those things, my friend," came a cold voice from the wings. All heads turned as Dale Catledge entered the room.


	4. Doc Versus Dr

**FOUR **

As long as Marty had known Doc, he'd never seen him as angry as he was now to be facing the newcomer. "Dale Catledge," the old man muttered contemptuously, "I should have suspected you'd be involved in this somehow."

"Well well, Dr. Emmett Gray," Catledge was surprised to see him again, "How's things since we last met?"

"My name is Brown, thank you very much, and thanks to you, it's not as rosy as it should have been!" Doc shouted, "And I'm telling you right now, I'm appalled at what I've seen here today! I demand you cease and desist all tests and such you have planned for David in the near future, or I'll go to the press, so help me God!"

"Oh, I see, you think you know what's best for him, old timer." Catledge chuckled with a mixture of contempt and hilarity.

"Much more so than you obviously do, Catledge!" Doc ranted onward, "The boy is not one of your laboratory animals to experiment on endlessly! He needs to be returned to his time immediately, or the consequences for the space-time continuum could be disastrous!"

"All right, if it makes you feel any better, Dr. Brown, we're only holding him over for forty-eight hours," Faraday spoke up quickly, "I made a note to his family on that. And once we're done..."

"Then what? Extend him even longer like you did with the astronauts from the failed Alpha Centuri project, some of whom were never seen by their families again!?" Doc posed, "I know you, Faraday. You've taken after your second father here all to beautifully, as I've come to see in the papers. He never put much stock in telling people the truth, and since Challenger went up in smoke, neither have you! You're both glory hounds out to line your pockets and...!"

"I think we've heard enough," Catledge interrupted, "Colonel Scroeder, would you kindly remove these gentleman from the premises?"

"You're not getting rid of me so easy, Catledge!" Doc bellowed, twisting out of Scroeder's grasp and storming up to within inches of his old enemy, "I know what you want here! You want the time-travel ability to make yourself all-powerful! Well I'm not going to let the world fall into your hands!"

"Hey, nobody touches Dr. Catledge!" Biff shoved Doc backwards, "Not even...!" He looked surprised when he saw whom he was protecting his master from. "Dr. Brown?" he asked in shock, "McFly?"

"BIFF!?" the two of them asked in unison. "What are you doing here?" all three of them asked.

"You two are leaving, that's for sure," Scroeder waved to his men, who dragged the teen and scientist out the door. "You know them, Tannen?" Catledge had to ask his valet.

"Yeah, Dr. Catledge, they're the two goofballs from back home in Hill Valley," Biff said, "I have a sort of up and down relationship with the kid's dad. I wouldn't worry about them, they're harmless."

"You'd better be right on that, Tannen," Catledge warned him.

Outside, Marty and Doc were physically tossed out the front gate. "And if I catch either of you in here again, it'll be curtains for you!" Scroeder shouted as he closed the gate behind them.

"Yeah, well what goes around comes around, tough guy!" Marty yelled back at him. He rushed over to his friend. "You OK there, Doc?"

"Never felt better, Marty," Doc said, brushing himself off, "Let's go back to Fort Lauderdale. I have some serious thinking to do."

July 17, 1986

3:37 p.m.

"Show me the data you collected during the last test," Catledge said to Faraday as they plopped down in front of several monitors in the main lab.

"All right, when we first received word that David had these memories stored away in his brain, we of course appropriated him for further research," Faraday said, punching several figures into the computer, "During the examination, we had a strange experience wherein he'd say one thing and different images would pop up here on the screen. Somehow over the past eight years he's been to a planet called Phaelon in a system we've never even known the existence of before, if you'll observe. It's not supposed to be too far away, actually, only a few hundred light years."

He pointed to various new star systems popping up on the screen. Catledge was blown away. "What about the entity," he inquired, "Have you been able to look it up closer?"

"Uh, no, that's the one problem with our research here," Faraday admitted, "We've done everything, but we can't seem to gain access to it."

"Have you tried dynamite?" Gately suggested from behind the two of them.

"Seriously Dr. Gately, do you think..." Faraday started to say.

"Dr. Gately has a point there, Dr. Faraday," Catledge said, "You need to get tougher if you expect to get what you want in life. And while I'm asking, do you want to explain how this got out?" He held up the day's newspaper heralding David's find.

"Uh, honestly I don't know," Faraday told him, "Someone with the police must have spilled it, because I've had this place under the tightest security ever since we brought the entity in."

"Well you need to make it even tighter," Catledge said, "I want this place to be a fortress for at least the next week. This is a secret only the highest persons should know. Call the Freemans and tell them we need their son indefinitely. I want to know more about how he went through time."

"Why do we even have to tell them anything, Dr. Catledge?" Marner suggested, "Like you just said, it's a need-know situation, and I only told the press about the runaway robot at Nova since..."

"Good point," Catledge interrupted him, "We won't tell them anything. In the meantime, Dr. Faraday, I want a full slate of tests run for the kid over the next two days, including a full radiation test and CAT Scan. And I want that thing cracked open somehow and its time traveling system analyzed, or I can find a new director here. There are plenty of other people who can probably do the job just as well as you can."

"I understand, Dr. Catledge," Faraday said, gulping slightly.

"In the meantime," Catledge continued, "I want a full alert put up for our friend Dr. Brown. I don't trust him in the least, and he'll probably be back in the near future to spring the kid again. Gately, tell Colonel Scroeder that if Brown shows up again, I want him shot on sight."

"That's an affirmative, Dr. Catledge," Gately said, making notes on a notepad.

"And now, I'm going upstairs to my penthouse, and I don't want to be disturbed for any reason until at least ten tomorrow morning," Catledge told his colleagues, "Tannen, the door please."

"Right away, Dr. Catledge sir," Biff held the door open for Catledge as he and Haeckel left the lab. "So, what do we do after we find out what's been happening?" he asked, "Send a rocket to this Phaelon place?"

"Maybe," Catledge said as he entered the elevators and pressed the button for the top floor, "First off, Tannen, my primary interest here is with the time traveling system on the spacecraft. As long as that works out for me, then we'll see about the planet Phaelon."

"So where will we go if we find out how to master time?" Biff asked, "'Cause I always wanted to see what the big Indian battles looked like in the Great Plains..."

"Maybe, Tannen, maybe," Catledge said, "I have several ideas where I might want to go."

The elevator stopped at the penthouse Catledge had persuaded NASA to let him have. I was just as luxurious as his Hill County dwellings, with huge tapestries on the windows, a four-corner bed with curtains, and full dining room. "Ready my towels, Tannen," Catledge ordered Biff, "I need to take a shower."

July 17, 1986

4:49 p.m.

"Are you sure you're all right Doc?" Marty asked him as they drove back down I-95. His friend had not said much during the trip back, staring straight ahead down the road with a determined look on his face. "Earth to Doc, are you in there?" he repeated.

"I'm here, Marty," Doc said softly, "I'm just trying to think of a way to beat Catledge at his own game."

"You never said anything about knowing THE Dale Catledge," Marty said.

"THE Dale Catledge doesn't exist, Marty," Doc spoke up sharply, "The man you think is Dale Catledge is a cunning charlatan who hides behind the veil of science to make himself the richest man on earth."

"Well do you want to tell me how he got that way?" Marty was quite interested. From all the newspaper accounts he'd read, Catledge was a nice guy.

"Oh he was always that way, back to when we worked together on the Manhattan Project during the War," Doc explained, "Our very approaches to that assignment delineated us; I was thrilled about the prospect of bettering scientific knowledge of the atomic world, whereas he cared mostly for the destructive power of the atom. Indeed, the only thing that kept us harmonious during that time was our shared affection to succeed in inventing time travel, although even then I had a feeling his aims in that area were rather sinister. After the bombs were dropped we split up and I didn't hear from him again until 1957, when NASA asked me to help develop their rocketing systems, and I ended up with him again. It was then that I realized the full aim of his thrust to make himself powerful. He all but blackmailed the general in charge to accept his design for the Mercury program. The shoddy system he created killed eight good people when it misfired during its first full-scale test. Rather than accept the blame like a real man, he falsified documents and made it look like I was the guilty party. To make things worse, he spread false rumors to the papers that I was a psychopath who'd deliberately sabotaged the rockets. It didn't help me that he had several friends in high places. To make a long story short, I was discredited and fired from the program with the reputation of being a madman, which, as you know, still haunts me to this day. I was very fortunate to be allowed tot each at Cal State-Bakersfield in the first place. And every time he receives one of those unearned awards, I cringe at the unfairness of it all."

"So everything he says he's invented over the years really wasn't made by him?" Marty was intrigued.

"Marty, the man couldn't assemble a Lincoln log cabin, let alone a missile defense system!" Doc said sternly, "He has enough losers around him willing enough to let him take credit for their inventions. He's also not about more ruthless tactics, either; I know for sure of three people he's killed to become Mr. California, and there's probably even more skeletons in the closet I don't know about. And through it all, time travel's been his aim. If he figures out how to work the time travel system that's just fallen into his lap right now, the world will become abruptly about ten times worse than Hell Valley could ever be!"

Marty whistled in awe of what they were up against. "I see why we need to get David and whatever got him here back to the past," he said, "But how do you suggest we do it? They're going to be on the lookout for us now."

"Fortunately David was able to tell us where the time travel source seems to be stored presently, so our first aim is to get him and it there and get them both as far away from NASA and Catledge as we can," Doc said, "And once that's accomplished, we send him back in time by any means necessary. Perhaps," he glanced at his watch, "my old student Wayne Szelinski may prove useful to us in this endeavor."


	5. A Science Alliance

FIVE 

July 17, 1986

5:58 p.m.

Marty picked at the admittedly tasteless chicken sandwich he'd ordered from the Howard Johnson's restaurant. "You'd think being a national chain, they'd be a little better with their food, Doc, "he confided in the scientist, who was just as uncomfortable with his barbequed ribs.

"Things have certainly changed since I was last here," Doc admitted, "This facility used to be a lot bigger and the food a lot better. Another sign of how the times always seem to change for the worse."

"Tell me about it," Marty agreed, having seen for a fact how simpler life had been in 1955. "Say Doc, how do you suppose Dr. Catledge got Biff to join him? He doesn't have any extraordinary talent that would be of help to him."

"Catledge has always surrounded himself with people who have weaker dispositions than he himself, and the current Biff after your father knocked him out is a ridiculous enough person to fit that bill," Doc told him,

"Sounds right to me," Marty said. His thoughts shifted to their soon-to-be dinner guests. "So, this Wayne Szelinski guy was your student, huh Doc?"

"About twenty years ago," Doc reminisced, "He was a bright pupil, but he had an alarming tendency to get sidetracked at critical moments and forget important items. One noteworthy instance was when he left acid boiling on the lab table overnight, and I arrived the next morning to find half of the table burned away. I was reluctantly forced to dock his grade a few points for the negligence." He lowered his voice and added, "And indeed, in a few years time, a similar lapse in conscious thought on his part will cause a scientific catastrophe that will seriously threaten the safety of Las Vegas."

"Whoa, that's heavy," Marty commented, "How?"

"Those details I cannot reveal, Marty; even though it would just between you and I, the..." It was then that Doc noticed their guests coming into the restaurant, and a lot of them. "Over here, Wayne," he waved to his former pupil.

"Evening, Dr. Brown," Wayne strode over and shook his teacher's hand, "Where've you been today? I've been concerned when you didn't come back all afternoon."

"Oh, Marty and I were on a scientific mission," Doc told him, "I take it you've met Marty formally already?"

"Yep, you could say that," Wayne said, nodding to Marty, "But I don't think you've met my kids yet. Nick, Amy, this is Dr. Emmett Brown."

"Pleasure to meet the two of you," Doc shook both their hands. "I think I've seen your face in the paper before," the old man told Nick, "Didn't you win first place in that Northern California Science Bee a year ago?"

"That was me," Nick seemed surprised that Doc could remember something like that, "You were watching?"

Doc smiled. "I'm always interested in what the next generation can do," he said, "I know some friends in the scientific industry who might be interested in the services of a young prodigy like you, if it would be okay with your family." He glanced up at the young couple that had come in with the Szelinskis, one of whom Marty recognized as Wayne's friend from the Convention Center. "And who might I have the honor of greeting here?" Doc asked.

"Hi, I'm Newton Crosby, I'm an old friend of Wayne's, "Newton told him, shaking his hand, "And this is my fiancé Stephanie Speck."

"I've seen the two of you before," Marty spoke up, "Weren't you major players in that runaway robot escapade up in Oregon?"

"Well, that's not one of our most memorable experiences," Stephanie said, looking what Marty interpreted as nervous like there was no tomorrow, "But were beyond that now. Sort of. We've started our own private game preserve in Montana and..."

"Stephanie, wait up!" came a metallic voice from the restaurant's doorway. Marty was shocked to see a hunched-over...thing motoring toward them. It was wearing a high-collared trench coat, a large scarf that covered most of its face, a low-slung hat, and large dark glasses. But Marty knew right away what it was. "It's the robot!" he gasped, "But on the news they said it was destroyed!"

"News liars, prevaricators, falsehooders," the robot declared defiantly, parking itself in front of the table. It picked up the nearest menu, "What's cookin', doc?"

"Uh, I should probably explain," Newton said in a low voice, "Number Five here..."

"JOHNNY Five," the robot corrected him, "Number Five stupid name, we agreed, Newton Crosby, PhD."

"Right, sorry, I forgot, JOHNNY Five here built a double of himself while the guards' backs were turned and let them destroy that," Newton said, "We got away with him and let the press think he was destroyed. He's been hiding out with us ever since. You'd all be doing us a favor if you didn't tell anyone you saw him. Nova might still want him back if they knew."

"That's the problem with science today," Doc grumbled, "Every little invention has to get turned into a weapon of mass destruction. There are probably at least fifty other good uses for a robot of this type than to blow up Moscow and the other soon-to-be-no-longer Warsaw Pact capitals." He gasped and covered his mouth in shock as he realized he'd just given away the future. "Forget I said that!" he asked everyone, "So, what's the robot doing down here where it just might be spotted by some money-mad societal have-not?"

"He hated being alone while we were down here, so he talked us into letting him come with us just this once," Stephanie explained, taking the menu away from the robot. "I don't think you'd be able to eat any of that," she told it.

Just then there came another person up to the table. "Excuse me, you're Doctor Brown, right?" asked a young woman whom both Doc and Marty recognized as the other occupant of David's room when they had come in earlier in the day.

"Yes," Doc frowned, "How'd you know where to find us?"

"I know with the Edison Awards in town, you'd probably be there, and I called the Convention Center and fed them your description," the woman admitted, "They told me you were staying here at the Howard Johnson."

"And why have you chosen to seek us out like this, Miss...?" Doc inquired.

"Carolyn McAdams," she told him, "I heard some of the stuff you said to David just after I left, and I just have to know, did you mean half of what you said?"

"I meant every single word of it," Doc said, "Both Marty and myself are quite concerned about David's situation there at NASA, and we really want to send him back to his own time as soon as possible. Dr. Catledge is going to exploit him to no end, I just know it, and the longer David stays in that hellhole, the worse it'll be for him."

"Well then I'm afraid you're not going to be happy, because I checked the records before I left here, and he's scheduled all through the next week," Carolyn told them.

"Damn!" Doc smacked his head off the window in disgust. "We've got to get him out as soon as possible!" he announced grandly to no one in particular.

"Um, I think you'd better not try anything like that," Carolyn advised him, "I'm taking a huge risk by even being here, and if you try and spring David, you might get both him and me in hot water as well."

"Well if you're so concerned about your job security, why did you even bother coming here to tell us these things?" Marty had to know.

"Because I care about David as much as you do, "Carolyn said. Marty noted that she did in fact look genuinely sympathetic to their cause, "I think he's been through a lot, and he really doesn't deserve to be spending indefinite time inside a maximum security ward, "she told them, "But unless you could somehow defy logic and take him back to where he left eight years ago, I can't really see how you'd be able to help him."

Marty couldn't help let loose a sly smile. "Oh, I don't know, Miss McAdams, we might be able to do more than you'd think," he said.

Carolyn shrugged at his response. She checked her watch. "Well, I'd better be off, I'm expected back at the base for the night shift," she told everyone, "Got to put the RALF away for the night so the morning shift'll have it ready for tomorrow. Try not to do anything brash, okay?"

"We'll do our best, I guess," Marty said as she left. "Well, at least we have some people at NASA on the same level as us, Doc," he told the old man, "We can..." It was then he noticed the strange enlightened look on Doc's face. "What is it, Doc?" he asked.

"Of course, the RALF unit!" Doc exclaimed, acting as if no one was at the table with him, "Why didn't I think of it sooner!"

"Uh, Dr. Brown, not to sound rude, but are you still on Planet Earth here?" Wayne asked his teacher with raised eyebrows.

"Of course I am, Wayne, "Doc told him matter-of-factually, "I guess I too should explain from the beginning. Did you per chance read this article in the paper today?"

He handed Wayne the newspaper he'd picked up earlier. Wayne frowned. "This wasn't what the front page looked like on the one I got a couple hours ago," he admitted.

"Catledge must have ordered it withdrawn for security purposes," Doc realized. Without following up on the subject, he pulled what Marty thought was a small, flat briefcase from the folds of his coat and unlocked it. "What're you doing, Doc?" he asked him as he opened it.

"I'm going to Yahoo, Marty," Doc told him.

"Why?" Marty asked, confused, "We haven't done anything to warrant it yet. And if you yell in here they'll toss..."

"No, I'm not going to yell 'Yahoo!', I'm going to Yahoo the web page," Doc corrected him, typing in some information on the keyboard that was inside the briefcase. "It's a laptop," he explained to their company, who were eyeing him strangely, "It gives you access to the Internet, among other amenities. Becomes very popular in about fourteen years."

"Okay," Amy jumped to her feet looking almost frightened, "You're really starting to freak me out here. Fourteen years from now it comes out! You've definitely cracked!"

"Um, I guess now would be a good time to tell you all that Doc invented time travel last October," Marty told the guests.

"Time travel?" Stephanie looked skeptical.

"It may be hard to believe, but he did it," Marty said, hoping he sounded sane, "We went over a good part of the space-time continuum, all the way up to 2015."

"Really?" Nick, rather than looked hesitant as the others were, was quite interested, "How far has technology gone in that time?"

"Nick!" Amy glared at him, "They didn't invent time travel! They're both crazy!"

"Great Scott!" Doc exclaimed as he saw the information on the laptop's screen, "It's perfect! It just might work if all of us work together on it!"

"Uh, what do you mean all of us, Dr. Brown?" Wayne looked like he wasn't going to like what Doc was about to suggest.

"Why don't we all retire to my room and I'll explain it all?" Doc told everyone.

July 17, 1986

7:16 p.m.

"Not sure about plan, Dr. Brown," Johnny Five quipped, "Sounds ludicrous, crazy, suicide, folly."

"It may sound crazy, Johnny Five, but I think in execution you might like it," Doc breathed excitedly. He handed the robot several hand-drawn diagrams. "Memorize these," he instructed it, "Your position in my plan is vital."

"Um, why do you need us to repair the continuum, as you say?" Newton asked.

"Catledge is looking for Marty and myself," Doc said, "More anonymous people might throw him off. And besides," he looked sentimental, "I've always wanted to share an experience with other members of the scientific community, and you and everyone here are just that type of people."

"Now if we're caught Dr. Brown, it was your idea, you know that?" Wayne told him, "And I'm not sure the kids should come..."

"Wayne, from what I've heard, you've spent little enough time with them as it is, so this is good chance for you to bond with them further," Doc cut him off.

"We won't be a problem, Dad," Nick told him, "We can help the plan."

"That's the spirit I'm looking for," Doc said with a smile. "All right," he went on, spreading another large piece of paper over his bed, "Here's my master plan. The NASA laundry truck arrives at the facility around 5 o'clock. We intercept it here at the Sawgrass Road junction with the highway and...borrow it to enter the complex. Marty and I will disguise ourselves as janitors; the rest of you pose as scientists. Once we're parked in the loading area here," he pointed to the specific spot on the map, "Johnny Five will head for the central control area here. At five fifteen, he'll short circuit the cameras facing the maximum-security wing just enough so that they lose visuals but won't suspect that we're manipulating them. Wayne, you and the others will pick up the RALF dispensing unit from its closet here and program it to move to David's room here. Marty and I will have entered the room at that time and will have cut off the guards' methods of keeping track of him. The RALF unit is big enough to fit people inside of its hull. We simply tuck David inside and leave before anyone suspects anything. We then spirit him over to this hangar here, where the object that brought him through time will be stored. We then load it on the truck located in the back here and leave the complex. Amy, you're in charge of that; once we have everything loaded up, you drive for the exit like the wind."

"But I don't even have a license yet!" Amy protested, "And may I add that this whole plan is insane?"

"So was the whole theory of time travel, Miss Szelinski, but it proved crackable after thirty years," Doc told her.

"But what if we can't load the thing up? What if it's too heavy?"

"Then we may want to think about personally maneuvering it out if it contains its own navigational system," Doc said. Noticing some more skeptical glances, he said, "I will take responsibility if we're caught. I have a feeling, though, that you'll all find this adventure we're about to embark on very rewarding. Are there any further questions?"

"Uh, why do you need my shrinking ray? "Wayne inquired, "I think it stands a good chance of winning its division, and I don't want to damage it."

"Catledge is a dangerous man, Wayne, and that technology you possess in that ray could prove decisive in certain situations," Doc told him, "And don't feel guilty; should we succeed in our mission, the effects of shrinking people will be reversed as if it never happened, because it won't have happened. So now, the big question, are you all in with us?"

After a moment's pause, five human heads and one robotic one nodded, some more firmly than others. "All right, we meet out front at 3 a.m.," Doc announced, "Tomorrow we correct the space-time continuum!"


	6. Operation Temporal Restoration

**SIX **

July 18, 1986

4:24 a.m.

Marty shivered slightly in the early morning air as he paced up and down the highway, waiting for the NASA laundry truck. He hadn't expected the temperatures in Florida to drop as low in mid-July as they were now. He was especially unhappy with the 3 a.m. wakeup Doc had insisted on. He glanced enviously back into Newton's car—now with a deliberate flat tire--where Nick lay sound asleep, as he wasn't needed for this segment of Doc's plan. But that wasn't all Marty was worried about.

"Do you really think they'll stop when we flag them down?" he confided in Stephanie, who was also part of Phase I of "Operation Temporal Restoration," as Doc had termed it, "Cause if they don't, we can forget about the rest of the plan."

"We'll have to wait and see," Stephanie said. She looked just as haggard and hesitant as Marty felt. "And to tell you the truth, Marty, I don't really approve of something as against the law as this," she told him, "How do you go along with breaking the law like this?"

"Well, after holding up a train in 1885, this is small change, Mrs. Speck," Marty told her. Seeing her expression, he said, "You really don't believe all the time travel stories, do you?"

"I'll admit it sounds a little far-fetched," Stephanie admitted, "But I suppose Johnny-5 being alive was just as hard to believe."

"Alive?" it was Marty's turn to sound dubious.

"Yeah, lightning struck him and brought him to life," Stephanie explained, "He's just like you and me now."

"Well, if you say so, I won't...wait, here they come now," Marty pointed down the road, where a big truck marked NASA was coming right at them. He strode into the middle of the road and waved his arms. The truck came to a stop. "What is it?" shouted the driver rather curtly, sticking his head out the window.

"Uh, sorry to pull you over like this, but we got a flat, and my Mom and I were wondering if you guys could lend us a spare or at least call the nearest garage for us," Marty asked as convincingly as he could.

"We don't have time for this," the driver told him, "We're behind schedule as it is."

"Hang on a minute, Bobby, I think we might have a spare or two," argued his co-worker, "It'll only take a moment."

The driver sighed in resignation. "All right, Rich, but if we get reprimanded, it was your idea."

Both men climbed down from the truck. While they weren't looking, Marty whistled loudly, signaling Doc it was time to kick it into high gear.

"So what's matter with the tire?" the second man asked as he and the driver approached the car.

"Busted," Stephanie told them, "Ran over something a half mile ago. There should be a jack in the back seat."

Both men squinted in. "I don't see anything there," the driver noted.

"Oh it's there, keep looking," Marty said. He nodded to Stephanie, and the two of them pushed the men's heads against the back window. "Hey, what the hell are..!?" the driver demanded, but he was cut short as Doc rose up from under a blanket in the back seat and held the Alpha Rhythm Generator in their faces. Within seconds both men were snoring loudly. The scientist hopped out the other door. "Good work you two," he commended them, "Part One of Phase One is a resounding success. Marty, let's get their uniforms on; we'd look suspicious in civilian attire."

"Car 8-10-92, what's going on?" came the voice of the dispatcher over the truck's radio, loud enough for everyone to hear, "Car 8-10-92, are you there!?"

Thinking quickly, Marty ran over to the truck and picking up the radio. "Everything's fine," he said in the deepest voice he could muster, "We just stopped to help some people who had a flat."

"Well forget about it and get back to the base!" yelled the dispatcher unpleasantly, "You're twenty minutes behind schedule! If I find you two have been drinking again, you both get the boot!"

"Ten-four, we're making like the wind as you speak," Marty signed off and switched off the radio. He hoped they wouldn't be held up by security for their victims' tardiness when they got to NASA.

July 18, 1986

4:51 a.m.

"Morning guys, what's happening!?" Biff asked loudly as he strolled into one of the labs.

"What are you doing up so early, Mr. Tannen?" one of the scientists on duty asked him.

"Couldn't sleep," Biff told him, "Figured I'd go see what you guys were up to before I got breakfast." He examined the nearest control console. "Hey, what does this button do?" he asked out loud, reaching for it.

"Careful!" the scientist slapped his hand away, "That controls the guidance system on Voyager 2! We'd lose our alignment with Uranus if you screwed that up! We've been waiting over a decade to get quality pictures from there."

"If you wanted pictures of Uranus, all you'd have to do is bend over and I'd take them for you," Biff broke into laughter at his bad joke. When he realized no one else found it funny, he asked, "So, what's on the slate for today?"

"Radiation tests on David like Dr. Catledge and Dr. Faraday ordered," the scientist said," pointing to a long circular radiation chamber in the far corner, "We'll see if the entity's actually inside him. But quite frankly, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Why, I'm sure you guys are professionals," Biff posed.

"Mr. Tannen, first off the test itself is unnecessary from where I'm standing," the scientist muttered, "And secondly, the amount of radiation to be given for as long as he's asking will likely be fatal. If it were up to me, I'd restructure the examination."

"But you're not, so you can't," came Faraday's voice from the doorway, "Dr. Catledge's orders. The test will proceed as discussed previously. I guarantee you the levels we've prescribed are safe."

"Well you also guaranteed the Alpha Centuri..." his subordinate started to say, but a raising of Faraday's eyebrows silenced him. "I'll get it set up," he said, heading over to the machine. Once he was out of Faraday's hearing, he grumbled, "But I won't be the one who calls David's family and tells them we over-radiated their son to death."

"Morning, Dr. Faraday," Biff greeted him, "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Reasonably," Faraday told him, "I'd like to start the experiments after breakfast."

"I'd like to eat it with you, I haven't eaten since six last night," Biff said, following him toward the cafeteria, "Do they serve a good hash brown here?"

July 18, 1986

5:08 a.m.

Marty glimpsed a sign reading NASA 1 MILE. Light was starting to come into the early morning sky. He could only imagine what the real laundry truck drivers would think when they woke up in a few hours in the middle of a swamp in their underwear. He adjusted his dark glasses and slouched down in the seat as they approached the main gate.

"Here're the suits you requested, Dr. Brown," Wayne said, sticking his head through the partition and handing Doc two janitor outfits.

"Thank you Wayne," Doc said, putting him on the seat next to him.

"Say Dr. Brown, did you say this kid's name is David Freeman?" Doc's student asked. There was something in his expression that made Marty feel rather uneasy.

"Yes, so?" Doc inquired.

"Uh, nothing really," Wayne said quickly.

"Wayne, I can tell when people aren't being straight up with me," Doc told him.

"Well, it might be somewhat important," Wayne said, "I'll tell you about it when we're alone."

"Fair enough," Doc shrugged, "Get down until we're inside the complex." He pushed Wayne into the back as they pulled up to the main checkpoint. The old man handed the guard on duty the security the clearance he'd taken off the driver. The guard, looking exhausted from an all-night shift, merely nodded and waved him in. Doc drove over to the building marked RESEARCH CENTER, MAIN WING and parked. "All right, everyone," he announced, hopping down from the truck, "It's time for action." He handed everyone a walkie-talkie. "Inform me of anything out of the ordinary that might become you," he instructed them, "In case of separation, we meet at Hangar B-6, that's where the time traveling system should be. Amy, there should be a truck nearby to their, good luck securing it for us. We'll let you know when we're ready to load."

"Whatever you say," Amy shrugged. "This is insane," Marty heard her mutter as she walked off in the direction of the hangar, "I could have spent a restful week alone with Russ, but no, now I'm off with a crackpot trying to twenty to thirty year sentence! As if being shrunk wasn't bad enough!"

July 18, 1986

5:13 a.m.

Marty emptied the next to last garbage can in the research center's main lobby. He and Doc had been pretending to spruce up the lobby in anticipation of their move down the maximum-security wing. Unfortunately, he'd noticed a couple of guards had been watching them intensely since they'd started, and he was worried they'd be taken into custody if they didn't look like professional janitors.

Up till now, there had been no contact with the other members of the group, and Marty had assumed all was going well so far. But it was then that Doc's walkie-talkie blared to life. "Come in Dr. Brown," he could hear Wayne calling from fifteen feet away. Doc turned his back to the guards and activated the radio. "Yes, I read you, what is it?" he asked.

"Uh, Dr. Brown, we found the RALF unit, but it's proving a little harder to operate than we...come back here you stupid contraption!!" Even from where he was standing, Marty couldn't mistake the loud crash that followed for anything else. Doc groaned. "Wayne, there should be operating instructions right on it!" he said as calmly as he could, "When I saw it, it was just a few button pushings to get it going."

Several more crashes could be heard. "Well how was I supposed to know this thing would have a mind of its own once you turned it on!?" Wayne protested, "It's hard enough catching up to it now that it's going at thirty miles an hour!"

"Well please try and get it under control as quickly as you can, because the longer you're running around chasing after it the more attention you'll draw..." Doc started to say.

"Excuse me, pal, what're you doing?" one of the guards asked, staring Doc right in the eyes. Faced with a direct crisis, Doc took the absurd way out. "Red leader, red leader, I've been hit!" he yelled, waving his arms around wildly, "Those MiGs are right on my tail! Send all available backup immediately, or I'll have to bail!"

"Is your friend here all right?" the guard asked Marty. Marty thought up the first rational lie he could readily find. "Um, he's been a little shell-shocked since he came back from Grenada," he explained hesitantly, "The Grenadans shot him down, and he's kind of been acting strange like this ever since."

The guard shrugged. "Well my advice is, make sure he gets help, or else he'll be a huge security risk," he informed the teen, shaking his head as he walked away. No sooner had he and his associates vanished than the RALF unit bore down into the room, Wayne and the others still giving chase. Seeing how it was now headed right for him, Marty took off running for the nearest sofa and leaped as high up onto it as possible. The RALF crashed into it (Marty noticed at least five dents on it now from the various crashes it had previously went through) and mercifully stopped. Nick popped his head out a side panel. "Boy, that was fun, can we do that again?" he asked, half jokingly.

"I'm afraid we don't have time, Nick," Doc said, "Any minute now the..." he was forced to stop again as the guards came back over. "Hey buddy, whatdya think you're doing with this!?" a new one demanded Wayne.

"Uh, Drs. Abbott and Costello and myself were taking it down to deliver David his breakfast," Wayne explained quickly, nodding in the direction of Newton and Stephanie, "This is my first time, I didn't know how..."

"Guys, we're having some trouble here with the picture," the man at the front desk called to the guards. They ignored the situation at hand and ran over to the caller. "What's wrong with it?" the head guard asked.

"The cameras are going fuzzy," the man said, pointing to the screen. As the guards examined the situation, Doc entered the proper information into the RALF. "Marty, you and I will go get David now," he announced, "The rest of you make sure they stay preoccupied with the screens. If we're not out in five minutes create some kind of diversion for us."

"Check, Dr. Brown," Newton said. "Marty heard him inquire as they turned to go, "Drs. Abbott and Costello, Wayne?"

"Well who'd you have suggested, Drs. Crusoe and Friday?" Wayne said in self-defense.

"So this is the very heart of NASA research?" Nick asked, sticking his head out again, "This is great. I wonder what they're working on in here?"

'Right now probably little more than junk experiments to line Catledge's pockets," Doc grumbled.

"Lighten up Doc, there's probably some guys in here independent of him," Marty said.

"You're probably right, Marty, but not many," Doc said, "As I told you yesterday, this place is largely a bureaucracy now, and he's the top bureaucrat of them all. It was his O-rings that failed on the Challenger, after all. I can tell you right now he blackmailed at least five people to get them on the shuttle without a proper inspection. Continued flights mean more to him than the safety of..."

"Hold your water, here we are," Marty said as they arrived at David's room. Doc ran his security pass through the system out front, and the door opened. "Room service," Doc announced loudly as they went on. David, who'd been sitting upright on his bed, gave them strange looks. "Don't I know you guys?" he asked them.

Doc lowered his dark glasses. "Yes, it's me, Dr. Brown and Marty," he whispered, "We're getting you out of here."

"Great," David was quite pleased at the prospect, "They lied to me and my family," he told them as he pulled a curtain closed over the mirror, which Marty suspected had something to do with the room's security, "They told me I'd only be here 48 hours, and now I'm slated for the whole week!"

"We know," Marty told him, "We're not going to let them do any more experiments on you, right Doc?"

"Absolutely," Doc whispered. He lifted open the RALF's paneling, "Get in, we'll take you off the base."

David started in, then turned to them. "I guess I can trust you with this," he said, "It's been calling to me all morning. It wants me to come to it."

"Hangar B-6, right?" Marty inquired.

"As far as I know," David told him.

"Then we haven't a moment to lose," Doc closed the hatch behind him. "Well," he announced out loud, "I guess we're done here. Have a nice day, David. We'll be back tomorrow morning." Then he pressed the buttons on the RALF. Hangar B-6, here we come," he said softly as they headed up the hall again.

July 18, 1986

5:27 a.m.

"Johnny-5 do well, no?" the robot asked Doc as it rolled up alongside them in the middle of the NASA yard.

"You did very well, Johnny-5," Doc commended him, "We now have a good edge on them. Did you have any difficulties?"

"None, zero, zilch, zip, nada," Johnny-5 told him.

"Sorry I asked," Doc shrugged. Marty glanced around nervously. The group was walking over to Hangar B-6 separately, so as not to alert too much suspicion. Nonetheless, Marty was concerned the guards would discover David's absence any moment now and sound the alarm on them before they could get away.

The walk over was, however, surprisingly uneventful. A few times, they came in contact with guards who eyed them suspiciously, but those moments passed without incident. In no time, they were outside Hangar B-6. "We're cleaning the facility," Doc informed the guard on duty out front, who nodded sleepily and opened the door for them. The RALF came to a stop outside a large circular room that was covered with loads of sheets. It reminded Marty strongly of what Keys had ended up doing to Elliott's house after he'd found E.T. there. Squinting through it, he was aware that something very large behind all the shrouds. Something very foreign to this planet.

David popped out of the RALF. "Thanks for the company," he told them, pointing to Nick, who looked pleased to have met someone his age on the mission, "He kind of even looks like my brother...when he was still my younger brother, that is."

"He is great, isn't he?" Wayne said proudly of his son, "So David, is the thing you've been in contact with in here?" the shrinking master asked the kid (Doc had informed them all of what David had told Marty and himself).

"It's right in here," David began walking toward the sliding doors not too far away. It seemed to Marty as if the thing was still calling to him. "Shouldn't we put on some kind of suits?" he asked, noticing the radiation sign on the doors.

"No, it's okay," David told him, knowing. The party followed him in. They walked through all the sheets and dividers until they were in the very center of the room. Doc's, "Great Scott!" uniformly summed up what they saw.


	7. Off and Away

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Those of you in the know please forgive me if I'm slightly off at times here onward with established FOTN dialogue, as I haven't seen it enough yet to know it line for line.   
SEVEN 

It was the most incredible thing Marty had ever seen, even passing his first view of the DeLorean going through time. Looming before them was a gigantic metallic spaceship that looked like a silver brain of sorts, heavily secured to the floor with enumerable chains. "This is heavy," he exclaimed.

"Heavy?" Johnny-5's sensors whirled, "Indeed. Approximate weight, 7.6 tons."

Everyone stared strangely at the robot. Amy came rushing in. "I can't get the truck started, so we'll have to..." she started to say, but quickly slipped into silence as she noticed the spaceship. "What's that?" she asked, looking almost frightened that something bad was about happen.

"Spaceship, UFO, flying saucer, extraterrestrial craft," Johnny-5 over informed her.

"Oh well," Amy shrugged, "guess we won't be needing the truck anymore."

"Indeed," Doc examined the craft more closely. "The external shell of this vessel is made of a hypolithiatic dipolymer the likes of which are not native to the known Milky Way," he breathed excitedly, "This comes from areas of space for beyond where we humans could ever possibly hope to go for at least the next two hundred and fifty years."

"So the big question, Dr. Brown, now what do we do?" Newton inquired.

"It wants me," David said before Doc could come up with an idea. The boy walked slowly toward the craft, and then, to the amazement of everyone, part of one side of the spaceship mutated off and formed into a set stepping-stone steps leading into the craft. "Amazing," Doc gasped, "There is indeed a telepathic link between them!!"

"So I guess we go in?" Marty asked.

"It appears the best option," Doc said, "and we may be able to see how it operates and how the time circuits work."

David was already climbing slowly up the stairs toward the ship, which were apparently solid. Marty shrugged and climbed up after him. He glanced in amazement at the stainless steel interior of the spacecraft. "Amazing," he commented, "Do you remember this, Dave?"

"No," David said rather emphatically, "I told you, it was all in an instant from where I was concerned."

"This is truly remarkable," Doc breathed as he examined the spacecraft, "Millions of years of searching the heavens wasn't all for naught."

"Oh yeah, but where's the crew and the controls?" Marty implored, "I don't think they just up and left."

"The main controls must be somewhere in the..." Doc started to say, but he stopped and gasped in amazement as a metallic chair rose from nowhere out of the floor right behind where David was standing. "Great Scott!" he gasped, "They've been expecting him!"

"What are you talking...?" David turned and noticed the chair. It was at that moment that Marty noticed movement from the very front of the craft. What had appeared to be an ordinary ball in the middle opened to reveal a glowing ball of light of some kind. But if that was starling enough, everybody in the ship jumped and even screamed in shock when it started saying something out loud in some alien dialect. They all stared in shock at it as it went on, Wayne dropping the crate carrying his shrinking machine in surprise. "Uh, live long and prosper?" Marty said hesitantly, flashing the Vulcan signal at it.

"I wasn't addressing you, life form," it said in perfect English, "I was addressing the Navigator." It then turned to David and said, "Sit down."

"Excuse me, are you the being that has brought David to this point in time?" Doc inquired, walking up toward it.

"Affirmative," the alien said, "But I have little time for discussion. I must recover my star charts and return to Phaelon."

"Good and well, but I must tell you that by taking David here out of his time period you have caused a serious rift in the space-time continuum!" Doc informed it, "So if it's at all possible I would like to send him back to 1978 if you'll give us access to your time facilities. The longer we stay here the more..."

"Request star charts," the alien droned on, ignoring Doc completely.

"Wait a minute, did you plant all that stuff in my head!?" David spoke up.

"Yes," the alien said. It abruptly zoomed out of the wall, revealing it was connected to the ceiling by a long shaft, almost like a periscope. "You are the Navigator," it thundered grandly, settling inches from David's face. Marty whistled at this sudden turn of events. "This is even heavier," he commented.

"Whoa!" Johnny-5, who'd just managed to climb up the robot-unfriendly steps with help from his third arm, wheeled across the floor toward the alien. "Brother, relative, kin, relation," he exclaimed, patting it on the "neck" with one arm.

"Your actions are confusing, metal one," the alien told it.

"No, no, Johnny-5, it's not related to you," Newton said, tapping his creation on the shoulder, "I would know if it was." He gave the alien a strange look. "What planet are you from?" he asked, amazed.

"Phaelon," the alien said, "Now if you beings of the Navigator's party would assist with the star charts, all would be well."

"Uh, pal, let me get this straight; you took David forward in time and left your navigating equipment in his brain?" Marty asked, "That was kind of dumb."

"I do not do dumb," the alien said, "Time is wasting."

"Well Doc," Marty asided to his friend, "I think this guy is more in your realm."

July 18, 1986

5:46 a.m.

Biff wolfed down the huge stack of pancakes he'd ordered for breakfast. "So," he asked Faraday across from him on the table, "How long've you been here?"

"Thirty-one years," Faraday said, looking like he didn't want to be pulled into an extended question and answer bit that he could probably sense was coming.

"Dr. Catledge got you your position in the research lab?"

"Yes. He's been almost like a second father to me. Kept faith in me when no one else would," Faraday admitted, "He was very kind to cover up the Alpha Centuri failure to the press."

"I've heard a lot about that around here," Biff said, swigging coffee, "What exactly went wrong there?"

"Mr. Tannen, that is strictly classified information," Faraday said sternly, "And quite frankly, you're really starting to irritate me."

"Sorry," Biff shrugged. "So, will we be going to this planet Phaelon once we figure out how the thing works?" he pressed on.

"That will depend," Faraday said, trying to suppress the frustration he was starting to feel toward Biff, "If we can come up with a way of getting there as quickly as David did without the side effect of being gone as long as he's been, we will try to..."

Just then alarms sounded and red lights started flashing all through the cafeteria. "Oh God, not a security breach now!" Faraday groaned, putting his hands to his face, "We'll all be hanged!"

The two of them ran for the exit. Gately and Marner, freshly in for the day, came up alongside them. "Nothing major, I hope?" Gately asked.

"Same here," Faraday breathed to him. He hailed the nearest security officer. "What is it?" he asked.

"Breach in Hangar B-6," the officer told him, "Colonel Scroeder will bring you up to speed."

"Mr. Scroeder, lock down the facility," Faraday ordered the security chief as he also came running into view.

"Already done, Doctor," Scroeder told him. "Let's go, people, get those vehicles moving!!!" he yelled into his walkie-talkie, "Today, people today! Surround the hangar now with everything we've got! Come on, move it, move it, move it!!"

"You didn't tell me you hired Scroeder," Marner said to Faraday as they all boarded the nearest NASA car to the hangar.

"Is that important?" Faraday posed.

"Well, we didn't exactly part on the best of terms," Marner admitted, "We'd better make sure he doesn't get too carried away with the situation."

"Navigator, I sense alien presence approaching," the alien unexpectedly announced.

"Damn they're efficient!" Doc groaned, slapping his hand to his face.

"Let me see," David asked the alien. Almost as if by magic, the front of the spacecraft morphed into a view of the outside. Hundreds of security personnel were pouring into the building, brandishing heavy weaponry. "Those aren't aliens, they're people," he informed it.

"And we're screwed unless we can get out of here," Wayne conceded, "Hey buddy, you've got any plasma evaporators or other defense devices on board this thing?" he asked the alien.

"Negative," the alien told him, "No such armaments on board. This vessel is not equipped for combat, only research."

"Well, that's it, we're dead," Marty shrugged in resignation. The craft was quickly surrounded. "All right, whoever you are, come out of there now or we'll disperse you with extreme prejudice!" Scroeder yelled over a megaphone.

"Boy they're extreme," Nick commented, although he didn't look phased by the fact they were now about to be fired on.

"Yeah," Newton agreed, looking dark, "And I'd recognize that voice anywhere." He stuck his head out of the spaceship door. "Scroeder," he called to the guard.

"Crosby!?" Scroeder was amazed to see him. "What are you doing here!?" they asked each other simultaneously.

"Crosby?" Marner stepped into view, "I don't know what you're doing in here, but if I were you, I'd surrender now and avoid prosecution."

"Howard, listen," Newton told the man, "We have a perfectly good reason to be here."

"Not good enough, Crosby!" Scroeder snapped, "Come out of there now or face our guns! The fact is you're trespassing!"

Stephanie joined her fiancé at the door. "Put your guns away!" she shouted angrily at the guards, "We have kids in here!"

"Oh, Miss Speck, big surprise," Scroeder said sarcastically, "I could have just guessed you'd be in this together with him. If you think kids are going to keep you safe from the courts, you've got another thing coming, like a hail of lead!"

"No!" Johnny-5 zoomed up to the portal, "No disassemble Stephanie and Newton!"

Scroeder dropped his gun on the floor in shock. "It can't be!" he gasped, "I saw it explode with my own eyes!"

"Eyes wrong, incorrect, inaccurate, BOZO!" Johnny-5 taunted him. He lowered his laser just enough to cause the guards to take several large steps backwards. Faraday and the scientists, however, walked forward. "David, is that you back there?" Faraday called in.

David waved half-heartedly to his forced examiner. "Dave, could you come out of there and let us take care of your kidnappers?" Faraday asked him.

"They're not kidnappers!" David protested, "They're here to help!"

"I know they told you they want to help you, but they're lying," Faraday said, "Just come on down and we'll sort everything out."

"Don't do it," Doc whispered, "All they'll have for you here is most tests, the results of which could conceivably be fatal." He strode over to the alien. "Sir, if you have any control over the operation of this vessel, I suggest you start it up and get us all out of here as soon as possible."

The alien ignored him and zipped over to David. "Navigator, I am awaiting your instructions," he told him.

"Uh, why don't we start by closing the door," David suggested, unsure what else to say.

"Compliance," the alien said. Without any warning, the steps outside welded back up into place as part of the ship's side. "That's amazing, "Marty said. He pressed against the wall. It was solid as a rock now.

"Navigator, do you wish to depart hostile alien environment?" the alien posed.

"Yes, do it, "David told it.

"Compliance," the alien droned again. Instantly Marty heard the sound of something revving up underneath his feet. "Hey Doc, something's happening here," he said, both amazed and nervous.

"Indeed," Doc pressed his ear to the floor, "From what I can ascertain, this craft seems to run on some sort of variation on a proton induction engine or engines. Very convenient for traveling across infinite galaxies."

Outside, the scientists and guards watched in both shock and horror as the spaceship came to life. "Uh oh, this isn't promising," Gately gulped.

"Don't be such a pessimist, Dr. Gately, there's no way they can break those chains," Biff reassured him. His smile vanished, however, as the ship broke the very chains he'd just lauded as if they were simple sticks and drifted toward the hangar door. "Hey, don't go!" he shouted, grabbing hold of a trailing chain, "You're gonna make me millions!" The ship kept going, dragging Biff all the way across the floor and slamming him hard into several light towers as it went. Finally, the chain he was holding on to broke off, leaving a dazed Biff staring up at the ceiling while mumbling, "No officer, I didn't get that firecracker's license plate."

"Well, this is all good and well, but the door's probably electronically sealed," Newton pointed out to the alien as they approached it, I'm well familiar with the way institutions like this work."

"Observe," the alien told him. Blue electricity shot from the front of the craft and hit the door. "Wow, power garage opener!" Marty exclaimed as the door slid open, "What other things have you got on this ship?"

"Numerous functions," the alien said as they slipped outside into the rising Floridian sun. The guards and scientists ran out after them. "Blast that thing!" Scroeder yelled over his megaphone to his men.

Marner snatched it off him. "No, don't shoot!" he countered, "We can't risk structural damage to it!"

"Howard, this is no time to get Good Samaritan!" Scroeder shouted at him, "If we get soft here, we'll lose them!"

"If you blow them up, Scroeder, we all lose out on a fortune!" Marner yelled at him, "And I want my retirement to be a good one!"

"You're a wimp Howard, you know that!?" Scroeder grumbled, "OK, we'll try it your way, see what happens."

Inside the ship, Doc glanced out at the mass of NASA employees gathering at the gate. "They won't let us free stand out here for long," he noted, "Since you seem to be the linchpin of operations, David, I guess the next choice of where we go is yours."

"Indeed, Navigator," the alien added. David shrugged and said, "Well, just get us twenty miles from here, OK?"

"Compliance," the alien said. Doc's expression abruptly fell. "Wait, I think you should specify..." he started to say, but the alien's function abruptly cut him off. Without any warning, Marty found himself being pressed against the spaceship's floor by almost unbearable G-forces that he usually only experienced whenever Hill Valley High had field trips to Magic Mountain—and then much less than now. "Hey Doc, what's going on!?" he demanded to his friend.

"He's taking us twenty miles away, Marty," Doc explained in a long, forced sentence against the pressure, "the long way, that is!" In a split second, the ship came to a complete stop, and Marty was flung hard, along with everyone else, into the vehicle's ceiling. It took him a few seconds to realize he was now partially weightless. Looking out the window, he saw the earth before him far below. "This is heavy," he commented.

"Beautiful beach ball..." Johnny-5 droned, glancing at the planet below.

"No, that's the planet," Stephanie told the robot, glancing over at its vital signs, "That stop didn't hurt you, Johnny-5, did it."

"No pain, big Mama, I'm raring to go," the robot said optimistically, spinning around in a circle to prove its point.

Wayne opened the crate and gave his shrinking machine a thorough look over. "Thank God, it's not broken," he breathed in relief, "If anything happened to this..."

"Uh, Threepio Junior, could you take us back down now," Marty asked the alien, "This is kind of getting a little scary being up here so high."

"Yeah, I didn't mean twenty miles STRAIGHT UP!" David protested to it, "Take us back!"

"Compliance," before anyone could prepare himself or herself, they were shooting straight back down to Earth. Pressed hard against the roof, Marty braced himself for impact. While it didn't come—as they stopped inches off the ground—his collision with the floor was harder than the one he'd had with the ceiling, owing to gravity now being back in effect. He groaned and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his chest. "That was...well...strange," he admitted out loud.

"That was great," Nick was far more pleased than the others, "We experienced eleven seconds of sustained zero Gs. No one's ever experienced that before. And we got a great look at the exosphere."

"NICK!!" his sister gave him a piercing stare. She was far less composed than he, and was sweating all over. "What are you trying to do, kill us!" she demanded to the alien.

"That was a Third Class maneuver," the alien explained matter-of-factually.

"A Third Class maneuver, huh?" David mused. He asked the alien, "Can you show me a First Class maneuver?"

"Compliance," the alien zipped off to the bow. Marty became aware that the walls seemed to be closing in now. "Now what's happening?" he asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

"What's happening is I advise we all move to the stern of this vessel if we wish to avoid any further negative G experiences," Doc said, hustling to the back of the now-elongating ship.

"Well you're the doc, Doc," Marty rushed to join him in the rear, followed by the others. He knew they'd done the right thing when, seconds later, they took off at what seemed like the speed of sound. "I hope we've got enough gas under the hood for all this," he said out loud as the swamps zoomed by in a blur.

Outside at the base, the NASA personnel stared in shock after their runaway craft. "Well Howard, they're gone," Scroeder said sarcastically, "I hope you're happy now."

"Okay Scroeder, I guess I got a little too hasty there..." Marner said quickly.

"That's not even the worst of it," Gately said in a low voice, "One of us is going to have to tell Dr. Catledge."

"Wow, that thing went fast," Biff said as he staggered out of the hangar, "I hope we've got a good radar, because it's probably halfway to Timbuktu by now. We should offer a..." he noticed everyone was looking at him with superior glances. "What?" he asked, puzzled, "What did I do?"


	8. An Agreement in Principle

**EIGHT **

July 18, 1986

6:15 a.m.

Biff hesitantly approached Catledge's four-post bed. His boss was still snoring loudly, and Biff didn't really want to wake him up, but he knew he had no choice. "Uh, Dr. Catledge?" he asked, knocking on one of the posts. There was a low grunt to indicate Catledge was awakened. "Uh, Dr. Catledge, we've got a problem," he went on slowly.

"Is it major or minor?" Catledge inquired sleepily.

"Uh, that's a tough one, but I'd have to say major," Biff admitted.

"Damn," Catledge grumbled, "What is it?"

"What?" Biff asked nervously, "Oh the problem, you mean. Well, um, it's a long story, and, uh, it's rather, um, complicated, but I guess I should, well..."

Catledge stuck his head through the drapes. "Tannen, what is the problem?" he demanded.

"Uh, well, circumstances being what they are, um, we're in the process of..." Biff stammered. Catledge glared impatiently at him. Biff felt no other option. "Uh, the kid and the spaceship got away," he said weakly.

"WHAAAAATT!!!!?????" Catledge leapt like a madman from his bed and swung wild punches at Biff, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST THEM!!!???"

"It wasn't my fault!" Biff protested as his boss picked up a poker near the fireplace and thrust it at homicidally at him, "It was Scroeder's security team that failed, those buttheads!"

"You think that leaves you off the hook!?" Catledge shattered a rare vase on the mantle in a rage, "If he's not back here...!!!"

"Uh, why don't you talk to Dr. Faraday about it, he'll bring you up to speed," Biff said quickly, hustling for the door, "I'll go get you your breakfast."

Catledge growled at Biff as he left. He stormed into his main office and pressed a sequence of buttons that brought up a view of central tracking on the big monitor on the wall. "FARADAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYY!!!" he bellowed at his protégé.

Faraday, who'd been monitoring one of the radars, looked up meekly at the screen on the ceiling. "I guess you've heard by now, Dr. Catledge," he said, forcing a smile, "I want you to know I've got it under control. They're twenty miles west of the compound. I've already dispatched helicopters out there. ETA should be in about two minutes. We'll surround them and round them up."

"See to it you do, Faraday, or I'll get a new project director here!" Catledge threatened him. He pressed the intercom button on his desk. "Tannen, bring up my clothes, too; I'm going to have to work overtime today!" he told his valet. He lit up his pipe. He needed a good smoke now.

July 18, 1986

6:12 a.m.

"You know Doc, this really isn't so bad once you get used to it," Marty admitted as they soared over the Florida swamps.

"Indeed," Doc agreed, "It's almost like my time train, now that I think about it."

The spaceship came to a stop. "We are now twenty miles from point of origin as you requested, Navigator," the alien told David.

"Good," the boy rose up," "I've got to go."

"Go? Where?" the alien inquired.

"The bathroom," David told him, a little frustrated, "Open the door."

"And while he's doing that, I'd like to have some answers," Doc said, approaching the alien, "I would like to know definitely how this vessel operates and how the space-time continuum can be best restored."

"Whoo, animal, mammal, cattle, MOOOO!" Johnny-5 called out to he several cows standing around outside, who mooed back. The alien zipped over and mooed at the creatures as well. "You learn fast, quick, speedy, swift," the robot told the alien. The alien apparently paid no heed and looked over to where David was going. "What are you doing, Navigator?" it inquired.

"Hey, give the kid a little privacy," Stephanie told it, turning its head away.

"Do not know privacy," the alien told her.

"Well maybe you do know something that can help us here," Doc strode back over to it, "First of all, explain why you've come to this planet and why you had to displace David from his natural time."

"I was sent from Phaelon to study various forms of life around the universe," the alien explained, still not taking its "eye" off the "Navigator," "I selected various forms of life on each planet to study. On this planet, I selected the Navigator."

"Why?" Wayne asked.

"Why not?" the alien said, "Since the beings on this planet use only ten percent of their inferior brains, I filled his with my superior star charts to see what would happen. It leaked."

"Well, what can I say, experimentation; problems always seem to pop up where you least expect them," Wayne shrugged, clearly not understanding a word he'd just been told.

"Well that being said, why were you unable to return him to his natural point in the continuum?" Doc pressed.

"Yeah!" David spoke up having finished, "You took me away from my family!"

"Ordinarily I return my subjects to the exact point in time I picked them up, but it was discovered that his fragile human body couldn't take the trip backward through time," the alien told them all, "So I dropped him here. Unfortunately, my star charts were erased when I crashed, so I need those stored in his mind to return to Phaelon."

"Are you prepared to discuss a possible proposal I'm willing to make to you?" Doc asked him.

"State your intentions," the alien said.

"I have developed my own method of time travel, one that is efficient, instantaneous, and completely safe to the human body," Doc told him, "If you're willing to agree to it, you can take your start charts off David, and I can send him back in time to where you picked him up. Then you can go home to Phaelon with your data and live happily ever after, I hope."

"Either way, Artoo," Marty chimed in, "You'll get something out of it. What do you say?"

Before the alien could answer, Johnny-5's radar popped up. "Danger, peril, menace, threat!!" he gasped, "NOVA!!!"

"No, that's not Nova, but I think that is our cue to get out of here," Newton said, looking to the east. Multiple helicopters were heading straight toward them.

"Holy geez, they don't give up!" Marty groaned as he headed back into the heart of the craft.

"No kidding!" Doc agreed, "When Catledge decides he wants something, he holds onto it, regardless of who it affects."

"Navigator, it is imperative you come back inside," the alien told David, who was still standing outside with his arms crossed.

"Not until you agree to Dr. Brown's idea," David told him firmly.

"Agreed," the alien said, somewhat reluctantly.

"In that case," Doc told it as David scrambled back on board, "set a direct bearing to Hill Valley, California. That's thirty-eight degrees, sixty-one minutes north latitude, one hundred twenty-two degrees, and forty-seven minutes west longitude. And floor it!"

In the tracking center, Faraday and the other watched as the helicopters approached the target. "We've got them surrounded," one of the pilots informed them over the radio.

"Good," Faraday told him, "Don't let them take off."

Just then, before their eyes, the ship began to transform shape again. "Uh oh, not again!" Gately groaned.

"What do you mean not...?" Biff, who hadn't seen what had happened just minutes ago when the spaceship had changed shape, was shocked when it disappeared in a blur. "Hey, where'd it go!?" he asked no one in particular.

"Can you follow it? "Faraday asked the helicopter crews.

"Follow it?" one asked him, incredulous, "I can't even SEE it!"

"That's it, we're dead," Marner moaned, banging his head off the nearest screen in frustration, "Dr. Catledge is going to hang us up by our you-know-whats! My whole retirement plan is shot to hell!"

"Howard, get a grip on yourself!" Scroeder told him, "We have not yet begun to fight." He pressed down on the nearest comlink and added, "Am I right, Dr. Catledge?"

"Of course you're right, Colonel Scroeder," Catledge told him from his penthouse. The supreme scientist watched on the radar screen as the ship zipped clear across the country and came to a stop between L.A. and San Francisco. A location very familiar to Catledge. A devious grin crossed his face. "Very shrewd move, Dr. Orange,"  
he said, "I should have known you'd try and take it back to Hill County. Unfortunately, it's not quite shrewd enough." He picked up the phone and punched in the home number for K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries. "Hello, Captain Skiles?" he greeted his head of security, "Listen, there's something down in Hill Valley I want you and your men to do for me..."


	9. Detour to Hill Valley

NINE 

July 18, 1986

3:18 a.m. PDT

It seemed to Marty as if time were literally going backwards. One minute they were in the bright sunny morning of Florida, and the next they were in the still-dark skies over Hill Valley. "Talk about fast travel," he commented.

"We have to move fast, they'll be on us quick," Doc said as the stairs metamorphed downward. He rushed for his farmhouse door. Clara opened it just as he was about to go inside. "Emmett, what are you doing back from Florida so soon?" she asked him. Then she noticed the spaceship parked in her lawn and gasped. "What in the name of Jules Verne...!?" she exclaimed.

"Yes Ma?" both boys came up behind their mother. They also gasped at the sight of the spaceship. "Is that a real space flying thing, Pa?" Verne asked him excitedly.

"Yes, Verne, but please try not to tamper with any of the circuits and such inside," Doc told his younger son, "We're on a critical mission to restore the space-time continuum. Clara, if you would, my friends haven't had much to eat this morning, so if you're not too tired show them to the kitchen. Marty, David, come with me, we'll see if we can do this the easy way."

"What do you mean the easy way, Doc?" Marty asked him as they hustled to the barn, where he knew the scientist kept his time train, "Are we going to try and send him back with your system? What about the mind transference thing with the alien guy you promised?"

"I fully intend to keep that promise, Marty," Doc told him, "I had a little difficulty with the time vehicle when I last used it, and I want to make sure everything's in order. If all works well, we can set up that mind transference, then send David back in time without any questions asked."

They entered the barn. David gasped at the sight of the train. "So this is a time machine?" he asked the old man.

"Precisely," Doc lifted him up into the cab. "Now for the key question," he posed as he and Marty climbed up, "Do you remember the exact point in time that you experienced temporal displacement?"

"What?" David was very confused.

"Uh, the Doc means do you know the moment you were brought ahead in time?" Marty clarified it for him.

"Well, I went into the woods at about eight," David remembered, "but everything after that's a blur."

"Well then, I think we have our guidelines," Doc said, fiddling with several controls on the front of the train, "Make a note Marty; when we send him back, we're aiming for July 4, 1978, 8:30 p.m."

"Why eight thirty?" David asked him, "I said it was around eight."

"We can't risk you running into your other self," Doc told him, "The results could be disastrous. At eight thirty, we stand less of a chance of that occurring."

"What do you mean disastrous?" David inquired.

"Uh, basically if you see yourself, you could destroy the universe, or at least the Milky Way," Marty told him.

"I guess we're ready for our little test here," Doc said, switching on the time circuits, "We'll try going one minute ahead in time and see if this baby can deliver for me."

He turned on the engine and set the dials for July 18, 1986, 3:22 a.m. "Hold on tight," he told the two of them as the train revved up and rose upward toward the opening barn roof. But just as they were about to reach the threshold of time travel, the train sputtered and began smoking. "Doc what's going on?" Marty asked as the train's automatic fire extinguishers put out the blaze that began burning in the circuitry.

"Great Scott!" Doc lamented as the train sank back to earth, "The damage was worse than I thought! During the last trip in time when I brought Clara and the boys back here, we experienced serious turbulence while going through the continuum that reeked havoc on the time circuits. I thought it would hold, but I assumed wrong!"

"Well can you fix it? "David asked, concerned.

"Oh sure," Doc muttered, "With about three months that we haven't got!"

"So what else can we do? "David inquired, "I can't be stuck here!"

"You won't be," Doc told him as they scrambled back down from the cab, "I will get you back in time. We're just going to have to do it the hard way. In the meantime you must be hungry, so my wife will cook you up something good. Marty, come with me, we'll figure out how we're going to do this."

"So what's the hard way, Doc?" Marty asked as they raced over to the spaceship.

"It depends on what our visitor here can tell us," Doc said as they climbed on board again. "Sir," the scientist addressed the alien, who was fiddling with some circuits of its own, "We could really use your assistance here. I need to know precisely how you travel through time and the designs of the instrumentation used for that."

"As you wish," the alien and much of the right side of the ship became transparent. Doc swooped over the mechanics that were now visible like a hawk. "Let's see, you unleash this red liquid here, it flows into you, and a reaction of sorts occurs that punches a hole in the continuum and allow you to slip through," he mused. He made a few mental calculations and asked, "Judging by what I see here, I assume that on average you go directly into the main flow of the continuum and zoom through it for up to and including a full minute, am I not correct?"

"You are," the alien said.

"I can see where it would be too dangerous for the human body to survive a journey of those specifications," Doc said, "The continuum is rough when you're not going directly through it. I have the technology to make such a transition for David safer, but it would require the use of some of your systems here to be hooked up to some of mine."

"What would the changes you suggest entail?" the alien inquired, somewhat suspicious.

"I propose that we run the same routine you do with the other beings you study, but we add a protective shell of sorts around the interior of the craft here and increase the power expenditure on the time jump to the point where it's almost instantaneous as on my system," Doc told him, "It won't harm your systems and can be easily removed once you return to Phaelon. I can't guarantee success using this system, but given the urgency, I suggest it as our best option. What do you say?"

The alien thought it over then made what was apparently a nod and said, "Agreed."

"I'll be in shortly with the necessary parts," Doc said, motioning for Marty to follow him back outside. "So how're we going to do all this, Doc?" Marty asked him.

"Fortunately for the protective shell, I have several polymer sprays from the 23rd century that'll fit the bill," Doc said as they zipped over to his house, "There should be enough to cover the entire interior of the spacecraft. As for the power increase, that's going to be a bit trickier, since I'll need about 5.78 jigowatts of electricity for what I have in mind."

"5.78 jigowatts!!??" Marty gasped, "How on earth are we going to generate that much power!? It's hard enough getting 1.21!"

"I know, I know," Doc mumbled, "And since we can't count on any lightning strikes this time, we're going to have to look long and hard for an alternative."

An idea occurred to Marty. "Say, do you still have some of that plutonium from the first time through time? If we through in several batches at once...."

"Can't," Doc shook his head, "I gave all but one canister away to a charitable group in 2194 that was gathering up plutonium to warm the poor during the winter in the colder reaches of the country. It would be too hard to try and get more."

"Well, it was a thought," Marty shrugged, "I'm sure you'll think of something, Doc."

Doc nodded and headed for the door. Marty watched as David played around a bit with Einstein on the lawn. "You like him too, huh?" he asked him.

David nodded. "I have my own dog back at home," he told the teen, "Einstein, that's his name, reminds me of him."

"What's his name?" Marty asked, sitting down next to him.

"Bruiser."

"Nice," Marty said, "I'd have gotten one myself, but my sister's allergic to them. So, how were things going for you before you ended up...here?"

"Decent," David shrugged, "I was kind of hitting a dead end, though. I don't really have any skills, I'm not popular enough to be in the in-crowd, and two of my friends had moved away about a month ago."

"What are you interested in?" Marty was really starting to like the kid.

"Not much," David said, "Except maybe baseball. Sort of."

"What team do you like best?" Marty asked, himself a Dodger lover.

"Braves," David told him, "They're the closest to Fort Lauderdale. I've been thinking about switching though. Ever since they got rid of Hank Aaron, they've been terrible."

"Oh I wouldn't give up on the Braves you yet if I were you," Marty told him. He still remembered a few of the stats he'd seen in Gray's Sports Almanac. "You play it?"

"I'd want to, but I'm just not that good," David sighed, "I'm afraid if I'd strike out all the time, I'd just embarrass myself and my family, and I don't want to do that."

It was as if Marty was back in 1955 talking with his father again. "I wouldn't be too scared about that, Dave," he told the boy, "You've got to learn to think positive. Give it a try, you never know what might happen." He decided to probe deeper. "So, you've got a girl?"

"Maybe," David said, looking somewhat hopeful, "Not likely though."

"What's her name?"

"Jennifer."

"Amazing," Marty exclaimed, "That's my girlfriend's name. She pretty?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," David said with a smile that quickly fell, "The problem is, she's so hot all the guys like her. I'm just a nobody, so she wouldn't look at me. She's friendly and all, but I'll never be able to get it closer than that."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Marty told him, "I think if you just be yourself, you'll always impress a girl."

"Yeah, but what do I say to her?" David asked him, "I freeze up whenever I'm around her."

'Just tell her how beautiful she is and how much you like her," Marty informed him, "Girls always like that." Then he added, "You know, if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

David smiled longer. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, "Well, I'd better go have breakfast; I'm starving."

"Enjoy it," Marty told him as he and Einstein walked off. He looked off to the east. So far no sign of Catledge's agents just yet. Indeed, he was a little worried by the lack of action on their nemeses' part; he'd feel a lot better if he knew what they were going to do next.

The sound of crashing directed him to the window on the far side of the farmhouse. Doc was tossing items all over his lab. "Where are those circuits!?" he was saying out loud.

"You mean these, Dr. Brown?" Wayne came in through the door, holding the time circuits, including the tri-colored readouts.

"Yes, those," Doc took it from him, "Where'd you find those?"

"Under the sink," Wayne told him.

"Why would I have put it there?" Doc mused, then shrugged and said, "Well, I guess I had my reasons."

"This was there too," Wayne handed Doc an old notebook.

"Ah, my diary from the 50s," Doc said. He leafed through it. "Now here's some unpleasant memories," he commented as he came upon one particular entry, "The day Catledge framed me for his own incompetence with the rocket systems. The proof would be in here, showing how he manipulated the systems to his advantage."

"Haven't you ever showed it to anyone?" Wayne asked, "If he's as bad as you say he is....."

"It was the fifties, Wayne, there was Communist hunts everywhere, and Catledge had access to the people in power; if I tried to defend myself, ,I'd have been branded a 'Red' and deported," Doc told him, "No, I let it go, perhaps unwisely, and as such Catledge is now pretty much untouchable. He's paid off enough politicians and police to make himself above the law. The rocket sabotage isn't the worst of his cadavers, though. Read this one, for example."

He went back a few pages and handed Wayne the book. Wayne whistled in amazement. "So he stole plutonium from the Manhattan Project?" he asked.

"As far as I can guess," Doc muttered, "He used some of it to pin on me when he decided to use me as a scapegoat. Planted it in my room. That was only a small part of it though, and since plutonium has such a long half-life, it's probably somewhere in his vaults, ready to be used at a moment's notice for all the wrong reasons."

He tossed the diary into the corner and asked, "So Wayne, you'd said you knew something about David that was important?"

"Well, I can't really remember perfectly, but when the kids and I first came into Fort Lauderdale, we had our pictures taken by the Intercoastal Waterway, and at the spot we had it taken in, there was a stone marker dedicated to a David Freeman. I asked the guy who took the picture who he was, and he told me he was a kid who'd drowned in the waterway about four years ago."

There was an abrupt clatter as the hubcap Doc was holding felt out of his hand to the floor. "GREAT SCOTT!!!!!" the senior scientist gasped, "Did you get any more specifics on the circumstances surrounding that?"

"I can't really remember much, but he said something to the extent that he tried to answer a dare from a more popular kid, and that his boat tipped over and he drowned. I know he told me more, but..."

"He probably did; the ripple effect's erasing it from your memory," Doc said. He looked greatly stunned. "This is most distressing," he said to no one in particular, "To know we're sending a friend back in time to a quicker than expected death!"

"Well we don't have to Dr. Brown, if you don't..." Wayne started to say.

"No Wayne, it is imperative we continue with the operation nonetheless," Doc said stoically, "The continuum must be restored. I'll have to ask you not to inform David of this. It is best if he knows not of his destiny. Help me find the flux capacitor."

"Well, if you say so," Wayne shrugged, looking reluctant to comply. Outside, Marty was in complete shock. The sound of Einstein barking caused him to turn to watch David playing with the dog. He felt guilty about sending him back in time now. But he knew better than to argue with Doc about it; once he was set in his ways, it was hard to convince him otherwise. Indeed, he knew it would be better to pretend that he knew nothing about it.

He trudged back inside the farmhouse. "Marty, are you feeling well," Clara asked him from the kitchen entrance, "You don't look so happy."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Clara," Marty lied, "You still got any biscuits left?"

"Right this way," Clara waved him into the kitchen, where the others were finishing their meals. "Say Marty, I don't know where Mrs. Brown learned to cook this well, but these are the best waffles I've had in years," Newton told him.

"Well Clara's an excellent cook, runs in her family," Marty said, giving Clara knowing wink.

"Passed down form generation to generation," Clara took the now empty plate from the robotics expert to the sink. Newton continued, "So, what made you interested in Dr. Brown? Was he an old family friend?"

"Not really," Clara became a bit uncomfortable before continuing, "The truth, Mr. Crosby, is that Emmett saved my life; I almost fell into a deep ravine—the one across town to be exact—and I fell for him immediately."

"It's hard not to love someone who does that," Amy said with a knowing smile.

Doc stuck his head in the door. "Marty, give me a hand for a moment, I need your help moving the amplifier controls to the spaceship," he told his friend.

"Right Doc," Marty swallowed the biscuit in one gulp and followed him toward the back area where the broken remains of the over-juiced amplifier sat still. "What do we need them for, Doc?" he asked.

"Set at its highest level, the amplifier emits about 5,347 kilowatts," Doc informed him as they lifted it up on a roller and wheeled it toward the back door, "To be sure that's only about a third of a jigowatt, but it's a good start, provided it doesn't blow before all the energy's released. Wayne's collecting all the trash from around the farmhouse; we're going to shove it into Mr. Fusion and see if we can get some more jigowatts out of that. Hopefully we'll be able to stop at several dumps before we attempt temporal displacement and stock up on...."

Just then sirens began flashing all over the house. Marty noticed the words UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ON PROPERTY flashing several monitors on the walls. "Is that them, Doc?" he asked, hearing the sounds of heavy machinery creeping toward the property.

"You bet your Diet Pepsi it's them!" Doc muttered, "I forgot how fast he could respond with K.O.N.D.O.R. right up 101! We need to get airborne again immediately!"

But getting airborne seemed quite out of the question as trucks, jeeps, light tanks, and other vehicles emblazoned with the words PROPERTY OF K.O.N.D.O.R. INDUSTRIES quickly surrounded the Brown property. "This is K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries security," barked someone's voice over a headphone, "You are ordered to surrender the property taken from Cape Canaveral Florida immediately."

"Boy they're strict," Marty muttered. He analyzed the situation outside. It didn't look good at all.

Doc activated a paging system of some kind on the far wall. "You will not get what you're asking for!" he yelled at them, "And for your information you are violating at least five amendments presently, so I strongly advise you to leave my property right now unless you want trouble!"

"If you do not release David Scott Freeman and the alien vessel to our custody in fifteen seconds, we will open fire on the premises," warned the security chief.

"So you'd be willing to kill innocent women and children?" Doc asked him authoritatively, "I'm asking you to find your conscience and leave now!"

"Ten, nine, eight, seven,..." the chief began counting down. Marty gulped nervously. "Uh Doc, I don't think we should encourage them like that!" he told his mentor.

"...four, three, two, one, open fire." The security chief ordered his men, who opened fire not just with guns but also the tanks and artillery pieces. Marty found himself screaming in terror as he hit the floor. "Yep, we definitely made a mistake there, Doc!" he told him as shells zoomed just over his head.

There was movement form over in the corner of the room. "No, no disassemble!" Johnny-5 muttered determinedly. He jetted to the window and lowered his laser.

"Watch out, mad robot!" cried one of the men outside. Marty heard a loud explosion as the laser was fired. He glanced up to see the men running for cover as the robot blew up their vehicles in quick succession. "Yeah!" he yelled in delight, "Burn them up, Johnny-5!"

"Good work," Doc patted Johnny-5 on the back and handed him some of his blueprints. "These are schematics for my time circuits," he told it, dodging some of the bullets the security men were firing back at the robot, "Once you're done here, memorize them, because I'll need your help in putting them back together, OK?"

"OK," Johnny-5 felled a tree onto a tank just seconds after the crew abandoned it. Doc hefted a large sack full of unknown items onto his shoulder. "Cover us," he told the robot, "We're making a break for it!"

He waved to Marty and the two of them pushed the amplifier system out the door toward the spaceship. The others came around the front and joined up with them. "This Catledge guy must be a really nice guy to want to go this far!" Stephanie complained to Doc as they scrambled up the steps into the ship.

"He hasn't even begun to fight yet," Doc told her. Bullets now struck the spaceship, although they didn't seem to be causing any harm to it. Marty struggled to push the amplifier system up the steps. "Come on Johnny-5, it's time to fly!" he called to the robot. Johnny-5 gave one parting blast to the security men and made a beeline toward the ship. He was struck by about four bullets along the way, particularly while trying hard to get up the steps, but managed to make it up okay. "Step on it," he told the alien.

"Yeah, First Class maneuver right now," David told it, looking shocked that people would be willing to shoot up private homes for him.

"Compliance," the alien droned, and seconds later they were shooting east again at the speed of sound.

Back in Florida, Catledge growled at the sight of the ship moving around on his digital map again. "Skiles, didn't I tell you to keep them on the ground!?" he bellowed into the phone to his commander.

"Well Dr. Catledge, it's hard to...OWWWW!!!" Skiles was cut off by the sound of a heavy object connecting with his head. "How dare you try to kill me, my husband, my children, everyone!!" Clara could be heard screeching as she hit him repeatedly.

"Cut it out lady!" Skiles pleaded with her to no effect. Catledge groaned. "Well when you get a free moment, Skiles, arrest his whole family, maybe a little hostage taking'll scare him into seeing things our way." He hung up, thought things over a minute, and then dialed another number. "General, it's Catledge," he told the newest person, "I've got a bogey in the skies over the U.S. Get in touch with as many national units as you can; tell them to bring it down at all costs."


	10. Under the Sea

**TEN **

July 18, 1986

8:31 a.m. CDT

"Are you sure it's working, Doc?" Marty asked him as his friend went about spraying the interior of the spacecraft with his polymer spray. He personally couldn't see any change.

"It's working Marty, trust me on that," Doc told him, "It's colorless and scentless, so it may not seem like it's bonding, but actually it is." His face grew somber. "I can only hope Clara and the boys weren't harmed by Catledge's intrusion," he said with bitterness toward his old enemy, "If any harm had come to them through him..."

"I wouldn't worry about it Doc; Clara's not going down without a fight," Marty reassured him. Doc nodded and turned off the spray gun. "All finished," he announced, "Barring unforeseen circumstances, this polymer shell will be dried in about a half hour and can offer reasonable protection form the rigors of the space-time continuum. Now we can turn our attention toward the more pressing matter of creating enough jigowatts."

"Jigowatts?" the alien asked him.

"A high-level standard of electricity, equal to about a million kilowatts," Doc explained to the extraterrestrial, "As I explained earlier to Marty, we'll need 5.78 jigowatts to successfully fulfill what I have in mind."

"5.78? That's practically impossible Dr. Brown!" Wayne protested.

"I know it's hard, Wayne, but nothing is impossible," Doc told him, "All we have to do is look hard enough."

There was a buzzing sound as Newton examined Johnny-5's bullet wounds. "Is he OK?" Stephanie asked her fiancé with great concern.

"Yeah, he should be fine," Newton theorized, "Nothing vital was hit."

"I feel fit as a fiddle," the robot declared, zooming around in circles to prove his point.

"Okay, but I'd still recommend you take it easy for a little while," his creator told him, "Just to make sure."

"Navigator, I sense that we are being followed by alien craft," the alien announced to David.

"My name's David," the boy told him, "What should I call you?"

"I am a Trimaxian drone ship," the alien said, causing a lot of raised eyebrows in the spacecraft.

"I'll call you Max," David said after a brief shrugging.

"Max?" the alien asked.

"Trust me pal, that works a lot better," Marty said, patting the metallic creature on the "periscope." Then he grew serious. "So Max, you said we're being followed?"

"Affirmative," "Max" told him, "They are following us through the atmosphere at precisely five hundred miles per hour."

"A million bucks says they're Catledge's F-16s," Doc groaned, "With all the free and deadly technology K.O.N.D.O.R.'s sold to the military over the years, he's best buddies with practically the entire U.S. high command. We've got to get low and below their radar, or we'll be sitting ducks."

"How low is low enough," Max asked the senior scientist.

"Look, just take us where they can't find us, OK?" David asked his otherworldly commander.

"Compliance," Max droned. The next thing Marty knew, they were hurtling downward toward the Gulf. "Oh you've got to be kidding me!" he shouted. The alien wasn't, as they splashed under the water. "What do you think you're doing!?" David demanded to his extraterrestrial benefactor.

"This was the closest location that met your requirements," the alien told him.

In the back of the craft, Amy was getting unexpectedly hysterical at their predicament. "Air...suffocating...need air!!" she was screeching, pounding on the door of the vessel, and looking desperate to get back above water. Wayne rushed over to him daughter and held her close. "It's OK honey, you're not going to die in here," he told her soothingly, although this had minimal effect on her condition.

"Is she OK?" a puzzled Marty asked Nick.

"She almost drowned last year, and she's been really nervous about going into the water ever since," Nick explained.

"The trauma effect," Doc mused from near the amplifier, "Strikes a good number of us after a particularly painful experience. A friend of mine from graduate school suffered a similar fate with heights."

"Uh, Max, I guess it is, this thing won't leak will it?" a concerned Wayne asked the alien.

"Negative," Max told him, "I don't leak, you all leak."

"Well, I guess that's a positive assessment," Wayne shrugged.

"I don't think any of us should worry," Doc said, punching some numbers into his calculator, "If my calculations are correct, we'll have a plentiful air supply in here for at least the next forty-five minutes, by which point the people after us will have completely lost our scent, for the time being, anyway."

"All right, forty-five minutes, but then we go back up, okay!?" Amy pleaded the alien.

"Agreed," Max told her, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to prepare for the mind transference."

He zipped over to the wall next to the amplifier and fidgeted with some circuits, apparently through telekinesis of some kind. As he did so; the wall became transparent, revealing several strange and bizarre creatures behind it. "So Max, are these the other subjects you've been studying over the last eight years?" Marty asked him, enchanted by the sight of genuine "E.T.s"

"Affirmative," Max told him as he worked on his circuits, "I've acquired them from all reaches of the known universe. When I'm finished with them, I'll return them to the exact place and time I picked them up."

"You don't experiment heavily on them or anything like that, do you?" Stephanie asked with great concern brewing in her eyes for Max's subjects, "Because let me just say here and now that I've never approved of laboratory testing on animals. It's cruel and unusual punishment to them."

"Negative, "Max told her, "I cause no physical or emotional harm to any subjects I obtain. When I drop them off, it is as if I have never even met them."

"This is heavy," Marty breathed as he eyed some of the creatures over closer, "Do you remember any of these guys, Dave?"

"Not really," David admitted as he looked them over. "What's this one?" he asked, examining one that looked like a miniature combination of a giraffe with a lion's head.

"That is a from the garflant from Saar Patralis," Max explained, "Once he bites on to something, he never lets go."

"How about this?"

"That's a phoneasaurus from the Pixar Elliptic," Max said, gesturing at a jarred thing that looked like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors.

Marty's attention was taken by what looked like a moving gray glob. "That looks like a big...big...well, a small piece of oatmeal," he commented.

"I wouldn't get too close," Max told him, "It has a cold. Be careful!!"

One of the other creatures had bitten onto David's NASA cap and was now devouring it. "That could have been your head, David," Max warned him.

Marty asided to Doc, "I got the latent irony in that, did you Doc?"

"Of course," Doc told him, "Everyone on board this ship hates NASA, including these fellows."

"So what's in here?" Amy had recovered enough from her hydrophobia to gaze into a large hole below the other creatures. She screamed again as a giant eyeball popped out of it. "Don't worry, it's harmless," Max reassured her.

"Oh sure, easy for you to say!" she told him.

"What's this?" David's attention was now set on what looked like an orange bat-like creature perched near the top of the display section.

"That's a pukmarin from Nepuka Minor," Max said, "It's not dangerous."

"How many of these creatures are exactly dangerous? "Wayne asked. He'd been slowly putting his hands toward the display, apparently wanting to pet some of the creatures.

"None of these," Max said, "I keep all dangerous subjects quarantined away from the non-violent ones.

"Good pukmarin," David said, stroking the creature, "What's he saying?" he asked, amused by the creature apparent communication skills.

"He is angry that I will not take him home," Max explained, "I haven't told him that his world was destroyed by a comet after I took him."

"Whoa, that's heavy," Marty whistled, "Although I guess it could have been worse. The Empire could have turned the Death Star on it and..."

"The Rebellion destroyed the Death Star, remember? "David pointed out to him.

"Yeah, but Vader built...another one," it was only then that Marty realized that David had been taken out of his time before The Empire Strikes Back had been released, and that, if returned to his proper time, wouldn't live to see Return of the Jedi if what Wayne had seen was correct.

"So there will be a sequel!" David's eyes lit up, "Tell me, does Luke get to kill Vader face to face? He deserves it for killing his father. Does he?"

"Um, well, uh, I'd think you'd be best off watching it yourself to learn it; it's kind of hard to explain," Marty said quickly. The surprise Lucas had given audiences in Empire was best seen for the first time by one's own self. He turned to their host. "So, Max, while we're on the subject of other worlds, what are things like on Phaelon?" he asked it.

Phaelon is a supreme planet," Max said, gushing with what probably passed for pride, "It has tall encbidas and is inhabited by many goolicranks and humberyinks."

"OOOOOOOOOkay," Marty said slowly. He knew he'd bitten off more than he could chew.

"Phaelon is the center of commerce and learning in the Ocrombian Galaxy," Max went on, "We sent research expeditions out once every five solar years. I was chosen as commander for this particular sojourn into your quadrant of space."

"Sounds like a nice place," Doc said, "But I think you should tone down the superiority over your background that I so noticeably detect you flaunting. Too many wars have been fought on this planet because one side thought itself superior to the other."

"There are no wars on Phaelon," Max explained to him, "We have reached a higher level of existence that transcends conflict."

"Oh sure," Doc commented sarcastically, "That's exactly what Lenin said when he did away with czardom." He checked some of the circuitry he was in the process of setting up alongside the amplifier. "Well, might as well keep working with this. We've still got a long way before we can hit pay dirt."

July 18, 1986

10:53 a.m.

"Still nothing on radar, Dr. Catledge" Gately announced glumly. The screen had been blank for the last half hour.

"I can see that from up here, you moron!" Catledge barked from his penthouse over the intercom.

"This is just great," Faraday grumbled, undoing his tie, "We've just lost the two most important discoveries of the twentieth century. It can't get much worse than this."

"The kid's parents are on the phone," one the scientists told him, holding up the receiver. Faraday groaned in disgust. "I just had to ask," he muttered, taking hold of it.

Up in Catledge's office, the phone rang again. "Yes?" he asked irritatedly into it.

"Dr. Catledge, it's Skiles," his head of security told him, "We've detained Brown's wife and kids as you requested and have done a thorough search of his residence. Sir, I think he's discovered a method of time travel himself."

"How can you be sure?" Catledge asked. This would be good news if Brown had.

"We uncovered several blueprints in his laboratory, and they were clearly for a vehicle meant to travel through time—a DeLorean to be precise," Skiles told him, "Plus, there's this big train in the barn that seems to operate under a lot of the systems shown in the blueprints. Shall I have them sent east for you A.S.A.P.?"

"Yes, hold the train but send everything else you've got there here," Catledge instructed him, "This might be one of the breakthroughs I've been looking for. Interrogate his family as to how much they know, and be brutal if you have to. And Skiles, now that I'm thinking of it, send over as much of the prototype armaments in my vaults that you can find. Plus the plutonium. And while I'm here, could you get several friends ready for action for me? I would like... Hold on a second." He hit the hold button as Faraday finished his call with David's family. "Faraday, while you're thinking over how to handle this, I would greatly appreciate it if you ordered an internal investigation," he told his pupil over the intercom, "Something tells me our friend Dr. Blue had assistance in getting in here."

"I suspected the same thing myself, Dr. Catledge," Scroeder said to his image on the screen.

"All right then, who was the last person here to see David before he vanished?" Faraday asked an associate.

"Uh, Carolyn MacAdams, she's an intern here," the man said, looking at a clipboard.

"Well bring her back here at once, I want a word with her," Faraday told him.

"Her shift ended about an hour ago," the man told him.

"Just find her," Faraday told him with great finality. He wiped his brow. "I'll keep a lid on this somehow," he said to no one in particular.

"And in the meantime, you can make sure the kid's family doesn't interfere," Catledge added over the intercom, "The last thing I need is them coming in here threatening to sue me for everything under the sun. Colonel Scroeder, go to their house and make sure it's secure. Green and his friends might bring him back there. Take Tannen with you; he might prove useful."

"Why?" Scroeder protested, "Dr. Catledge, he'll greatly hinder any operations I might take!"

"No I won't!" Biff told him, "I won't wreck anything, honest!"

"You have your orders, Colonel; take your men and move out," Catledge instructed Scroeder. Scroeder groaned and muttered, "All right Mr. Tannen, let's get moving."

"Great," Biff put his arm around the security man's shoulder as they left the tracking room, "You know I've always wanted to do something like this...."

Up in his penthouse, Catledge forced a small smile. "Well Haeckel, at least Tannen's out of our hair for a little while," he told his dog, patting its head, "Let him drive someone else clean up the wall for a little bit. In the meantime, we'll regroup our forces after our pal Dr. White." He took his phone off hold. As I was saying, Skiles, I'd like you to go to the Hill County Penitentiary and..."


	11. Headed to Cleveland

ELEVEN 

July 18, 1986

10:44 a.m. CDT

Marty watched as a manatee swam its way past the front of the spaceship. They were apparently a lot closer to Florida than he'd first thought. It felt almost surreal that they were under the sea. True, the pollution dumped into the Gulf was obscuring his vision out the window, but what he could see was more amazing than any of the lame filmstrips his teachers had ever shown him on undersea life.

"So Dave," he asked the young time traveler, who was seated next to him on the spaceship floor, stroking the pukmarin, "What do you think you're going to do when you get back to 1978, if we can get you back?"

"First thing I'm going to do is hug my mom and dad, and then shake my brother's hand," David told him, "You know, before this all happened I hated him with a passion, but now I know how much he really cared for me deep down. You should have been there when I met him again for the first time. He showed more affection there than I've ever seen from him in eight years of normal time."

"So he's sixteen now, right?" Marty asked.

"Yep," David nodded, "It was shocking to see him older than me, you know."

"I can imagine," Marty said, glad that as the youngest in his own family, he'd never have to go through a similar experience. "Well, consider yourself lucky," he told David, "It could be more shocking. I almost had coronary went I got sent back to 1955 and saw my parents when I was their age. To find half the stuff they told me growing up wasn't true. Now THAT'S your epitomal shocker."

"1955," David mused, "My parents were about my age in 1955. Now I may be wrong, but the way they tell it, most of their lives growing up was surf and sand and long lazy days on the beach. If I could go back there, I'd have to see for myself whether that's accurate or not."

"Don't you believe them now that I've brought up my own conspiracies?"

"Well I'd believe them for the most part," David admitted, "They have usually been honest with me before." His expression darkened. "Not like that jerk Faraday. He tricked us. He said he knew the truth about what happened to me, but I can tell now he didn't know anything. He just wanted to experiment on me."

"Big surprise there," Doc snorted from nearby, where he was setting a few time circuits into place, "The day your pal Charles Faraday tells the truth about ANYTHING is the day Hell freezes over. What he's done with you is second behind only his handling of the whole Alpha Centuri affair as the most despicable example of scientific prevarication I've ever seen."

"What exactly happened with the whole Alpha Centuri affair, Doc?" Marty had been hooked on this apparent event ever since he'd heard it mentioned yesterday.

"Well basically if you know the Fantastic Four's origin story, you get the basic idea," Doc explained to him, "More specifically, in the early days of the Gemini project, NASA considered the prospect of reaching beyond the moon and heading to the stars, more specifically Alpha Centuri, our closest neighbor besides the sun itself. This project, which was approved due to massive blackmail on the part of Catledge, who even then had a significant stake in the organization, was pushed ahead far too aggressively for what it involved. Many of the components of the rocket system were wholly inadequate for the journey in mind, but Faraday as project director silenced the naysayers with threats of firing and disgrace. When the rocket was launched in absolute secrecy, the three men on board promptly ran into an above-average solar discharge from our native star as they tried to zoom beyond it. Everything on board was fried due to a completely inadequate shield, and when they had to abort and return to earth, they'd suffered horrific damage. Rather than accept that he'd made a grievous error to begin with, Faraday promptly quarantined them and put them through horrible experiments to see the effect's long-term effect. He made up so many ridiculous lies to the astronauts' families that he'd probably be in the Guinness book of records for most consecutive prevarications if anyone else knew about it. The men were promised they'd be out in three weeks at most, but they all were kept for almost three years. Only two of them made it out alive, and one was brain damaged for life. The other tried to tell the press about the abuses he'd suffered, but Catledge and Faraday conveniently had him run over by a tractor-trailer before he could meet with anyone. In all, it was a dark time for science."

"Yeesh,' Marty grimaced, "These guys really mean business when the stakes are high, huh?"

"And then some," Doc agreed, "If only there was some way I could prove they did all that, we could put them away, but unfortunately all documentation of the Alpha Centuri project was destroyed years ago by the two of them as a precaution against such prosecution. If there's one thing Dale Catledge can do well, it's covering his tracks to erase his depravations from the world's sight."

Marty was silent for a moment as he let all this sink in. If all this was true, it didn't look good for them if they were caught. "So, how's it coming with the capacitor, Doc?" he asked, eager now to change the subject.

"It's no use Marty, we'll need to get some nuclear elements in order for this to work," Doc shook his head, "Right now the biggest reaction I'd be able to get with the amplifier and all the junk we were able to obtain is 1.08 jigowatts, which would be reasonably enough in the DeLorean or train, but far short of our objectives here. And quite frankly I have no idea where we'd be able to get any of them."

"How about the Cuyahoga Nuclear Power Plant in Ohio, Dr. Brown?" Nick spoke up from the corner, "They've been shut down since that accident last month. They'd probably have spare plutonium or uranium around, perhaps even some stored neptunium if they were making some when they got aborted."

A familiar light blazed on in Doc's eyes. "Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner!" he exclaimed, "The Cuyahoga plant will be down until 2021 due to all sorts of factors, and by then it'll be of no further use to the nation's power supply! Therefore, the plutonium therein is perfect for our usage! Nicholas, you are a genius!"

He rushed over and gave the boy's hand a vigorous pumping. "Once we finish down here, we should make a direct path for Cleveland," he announced to everyone, "The answers lie..."

And then out of nowhere came Marner's voice. "Crosby, come in," he called out from seemingly thin air, "Crosby, I know you're there, pick up the radio."

"How'd he get the radio? "Stephanie asked puzzled.

"He couldn't have unless one of us dropped ours back at NASA," Doc pointed out. There was a rush to check pockets for walkie-talkies. As it was, Wayne's pocket came up empty. "Oops," he shrugged, "Must've fallen out when that RALF thing got away from me."

Doc gave his student a strained glance. Marner kept calling in for a response to his presence. "Should I answer him?" Newton asked the senior scientist.

"If you feel you should, but don't stay on the line too long," Doc advised.

Newton nodded and signed on. "Hi Howard, how's your day been going?" he asked his former boss.

"Oh just great," Marner said, reclining in his chair inside the NASA tracking room, "You and your friends just managed to ruin my whole morning and steal my pension, but yes, I'm fine."

"So then why have you decided to waste our time?" Newton inquired, "We're not brining David back, Howard. You people aren't right for him."

"Crosby, I'm not the bad guy here," Marner said, "Dr. Catledge will kill everybody on board that ship if he gets a hold of you. Scroeder's more than willing to help him do it. I'm trying to give you a last chance to avoid tragedy. Go to Doak-Campbell Stadium in Tallahassee in two hours and surrender to us, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure Dr. Catledge treats you with civility."

"And you promise on that?" Newton posed.

"I swear with every ounce of my being that no harm will come to you if you do that," Marner said.

"Well that's funny, because you also said the same thing at the Black Lion Inn before you and Scroeder double-crossed me there," the robotics expert told him.

"That was more Scroeder's fault than mine," Marner said in self-defense, "You can trust me on this, Crosby, I..."

Johnny-5 zipped over from the time circuits. "Howard Marner, you can take your fake offer and go straight to Hell, Sheol, Hades," he told off his former master.

"That's not funny, Number Five!" Marner shouted at the robot, "This is your last chance to avoid destruction, you know. If you don't take up my offer, you'll be disassembled by Scroeder's men and..."

Johnny-5 crushed the walkie-talkie as if it were Play-Doh. Howard Marner, you need silence, quiet, shut up," he snorted.

"So, what did he say?" Catledge inquired over the intercom back at NASA.

"No dice, Dr. Catledge," Marner shook his head, "They didn't take the bait. We're back to square one."

"Well then, we'll just have to break in your new models on them, shalln't we?" Catledge told him.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Dr. Catledge?" Marner asked, "My newer models haven't been given certification yet. And I'm not sure yet that we were able to successfully reprogram the older ones back to what they were supposed to do."

"Well there's never a better time to learn, now is there?" the top scientist said, glaring Marner down.

Back in the spaceship, Max drifted over toward David on the floor. "Navigator, it is time for the mind transference," he told him.

"Will this hurt? "David asked tentatively as the chair next to him sank into the floor and became a trench.

"You will feel nothing," Max reassured him.

"Well how many times have you done this?" David was still suspicious.

"Zero," Max admitted.

"That how will you know he won't feel anything?" Marty had to know, "What if you fry his brains or turn his skeleton into jelly or something like that?"

"I will not fry his brain or turn his skeleton to jelly," Max said emphatically, "Now lie down, Navigator."

David reluctantly did so. Max's retina grew greenish. Marty, who was expecting something grandiose, was surprised to see that all Max did was give David's body a quick scan over. "So that's it?" he asked, partially disappointed.

"That's it, Marty baby!" Max abruptly blurted out. Marty frowned. This seemed so out of character for the alien. Had something malfunctioned during the transference?

"Are you OK?" he asked Max.

"I'm fit as a fiddle, boyfriend!" the alien derided him. He started rattling off seemingly incohesive lines of dialogue that left everyone puzzled. "He's gone off his rocker," was all Marty could come up with.

"He's lost his mind," Wayne said, shocked.

"He's alive," Johnny-5 wheeled over and patted Max on the "neck." "Welcome to the club, brother," he told him.

"If this is life, gimme nine of them like a cat!" Max chortled. Marty thought he now sounded a lot like Pee-Wee Herman. "I think I got more than a star chart in here," he informed them all.

"Tell me about it," David laughed, "You sound like a geek."

"A geek!?" Max zoomed over and stared at him with his single eye, "Well mister smart guy, if you think you're so smart, we'll see about that."

The next thing Marty knew, they were rocketing up out of the Gulf at over a million miles an hour. "Not again!" he groaned, feeling like a pancake. They came to a stop in the exosphere again. "What do you think you're doing now!?" David had to ask max.

"You think you're good, let's see you fly this thing!" Max told him. Then he shut down. Marty realized immediately what this had to mean—seconds before the spaceship went into a sickening nosedive. "Doc, is he serious about this!?" he screamed over to his friend, who was looking green at the gills as he threw himself over his equipment.

"Come on Max, don't do this!" David pleaded to the silent alien, "You're just doing this because I called you a geek! I didn't mean it!"

"Come on you stupid piece of metal!" Marty rattled Max roughly, "If you kill us now, you'll wreck the continuum permanently!"

Max came to. "The continuum this, the continuum that!" he mocked Marty, "Everything's about time and space and...."

"One of these buttons has to start it!" David reasoned, looking over the myriad of buttons lining his seat, which had popped back up. He started pressing them all frantically. Marty joined in, hoping they'd find the right one in time. The earth was getting very big in the window. He reasoned they had about twenty-five seconds before impact. Back in NASA, everyone else had noticed their reemergence onto the radar. "Oh God, they're out of control!" Gately groaned, watching the ship plummet back to earth, "We didn't hit it, did we?"

"No," Faraday told him strongly. "Come on, pull out!" he pleaded it, seeing his fame and fortune evaporating with every mile his discovery fell to the ground.

"You're getting warmer!" Max taunted David and Marty as they continued pressing buttons, "Warmer, hot, boiling, scalding! Wait, cooling off, freezing, Arctic, subzero...!"

"WHO!!??" Marty shouted, confused as to whom he was talking to.

"Wait, it's this one!" David pressed down on the button in question about five seconds from impact. Instantly two metallic things rose up on either side of the chair. David seized hold of them and swerved around just as they were about to hit a mountain. "That was close!" he breathed.

"Yeah," Wayne agreed. Then he fainted.

"You know, it's not so hard to fly this thing," David said as the color started coming back to his face.

"Daaaaa!!!" Max said sarcastically.

"The slightest movement," David put his hands on top of the disk-like objects that had risen out of the floor and jiggled them around, "And we go this way." The spaceship lurched to the side.

"Well, now that we know how to control it, why don't we head on over to Cleveland and get that plutonium to help get you back," Doc told him.

"Well if you know the way there, go right ahead," David told him, "Because I've never been to Cleveland or even Ohio in my life."

Doc pulled what looked like a white Moravian star out of his pocket. He pressed some kind of trigger on the top of it, and one of the points lit up red. "That way," he said, pointing to what Marty guessed was the northeast, "I'll help navigate—navigate for the navigator."


	12. Shootout at the Cuyahoga Power Plant

TWELVE

July 18, 1986

12:42 p.m.

"This is going to be good," Biff confided in Scroeder as their van swerved through the streets of Fort Lauderdale, "I've always wanted to do something big like this."

"I'm sure you have, Mr. Tannen," Scroeder said, not really wanting to get into a conversation with Biff, whom he clearly despised.

"You know, my great-granddad Buford Tannen was the worst outlaw in the Old West," Biff went on, checking over the gun he'd been issued by security, "Killed twelve guys and pretty much had free reign over the Hill Valley area until he got beat by a guy named—get this—Clint Eastwood."

"Really?" one of Scroeder's aides was impressed, even though Scroeder himself wasn't.

"Really," Biff said, "The jerk beat him up and pushed him into a manure cart. All us Tannens have hated manure through the years, and..."

"Here we are," the man driving the van said, pointing to the Freeman's house, "And wouldn't you just believe our luck, the MacAdams woman's here too; I know that's her car."

"Duke, turn on the sound scanner," Scroeder ordered his associate at a long soundboard. This man clicked several buttons on it, until the conversation inside became clear in the van. "...David's up there in the spaceship," Carolyn could be heard telling the Freemans.

"Hey, that's cute, how does...?" Biff asked, reaching for the board.

"Shhhh!!!!" Scroeder snapped, pushing his arm away, just in time for them all to hear Mr. Freeman curse out Faraday. "He's going to wish he never met us!" he was ranting, I'm calling him up and...!!"

"That's what you think," Scroeder muttered. He turned to his command. "Okay, Leon, you and your squad secure the back door; if the MacAdams woman tries to run for it, take her into custody. Otis, you and the others come with Mr. Tannen and me."

They all piled out of the van, weapons in hand, and strode up to the front door. Biff rang the doorbell repeatedly. Scroeder rolled his eyes. "Do you really want them to know we're coming THAT badly!?" he asked sarcastically.

Mr. Freeman opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked, clearly knowing why the people were at his house, but seemingly bent on covering up his knowledge.

"Hi, Biff Tannen, K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries," Biff introduced himself, "On behalf of Dr. Dale Catledge and Dr. Charles Faraday, I'm here to tell you that neither you nor your family is going anywhere until we say so."

"I demand to speak to Faraday this minute!" Mr. Freeman demanded, "That jerk is going to pay through the nose for kidnapping my son from us!"

"Yeah, I heard," Biff said. He held up his gun. "Point is, though, we have the guns and you don't, so you're just going to do what we say, kapeesh?"

Mr. Freeman growled in resignation. "In that case, come on in, I guess," he shrugged.

"Look, you're making a big mistake here!" came Carolyn's voice from Biff's left as he went in. Biff stopped long enough to watch the rest of Scroeder's team hustle her toward their van. "We know exactly what we're doing, so just be quiet and enjoy the ride," the man named Leon told her, "Dr. Faraday wants a quick word with you."

"Otis, put a tap on the phone," Scroeder ordered his adjutant as they went in.

"I can't, Colonel Scroeder," Otis admitted, "We didn't bring a wiretap."

"What do you mean you didn't bring a wiretap!?" Scroeder demanded.

"Well sir, they didn't have any left in stock."

Scroeder groaned in disgust. "Between a complete moron and a group of incompetent fools...!" he could be heard muttering under his breath. "All right, when the phone rings, we answer it first," he announced to everyone.

"Nice place," Biff commented, glancing around the Freemans' above-average residence, "Much better than what I usually have. How much do you pull down a month?"

"I really don't think that's any of your concern, Mr. Tannen," Mr. Freeman told him.

"Yeah, well, I'm armed, so I think it's very much my concern," Biff said. Noticing their glares, he said, "Hey, why the long faces? Your kid's going to make everyone rich, including you probably."

"We don't want to get rich," Mrs. Freeman said in a barely controllable raised voice, "We just want David home. You can't imagine what it's been through for us the last eight years, wondering where he is. Isn't it enough for us to want to get back to our normal lives?"

"You'll get him back, once we're..." Biff was cut off as the doorbell rang. The person ringing, the mailman, nearly had a heart attack when Scroeder's team thrust it open and put their guns in his face. "Package for the Freemans?" he said weakly.

"They're kind of busy right now," Biff took it off his hands, "So why don't you make like a tree and get out of here?"

"Hey pal, it goes, 'Make you a tree and leave,'" the Freemans' other son sniggered as Biff slammed the door shut.

"No it doesn't," Biff said, offended.

"Uh Jeff, why don't you just go out back and let us deal with these nice men," his father said, gesturing toward the back door.

"Oh no he doesn't," Scroeder said sternly, "We're keeping a good eye on all of you, so you're staying together until we say otherwise."

"Hey, don't look so bad," Biff plopped down on the sofa and flicked on the TV, "A little television ought to cure your blues. Especially if Donohue has those transvestite midgets from Mars on again."

July 18, 1986

12:59 p.m.

"There it is, right over there," Doc pointed toward the Cuyahoga Nuclear Power Plant ahead of them, "Pull into those woods over there; we could probably sneak in through the back fence. Security's been lessened ever since the meltdown."

"So how much plutonium do you think we'll need, Doc?" Marty asked as they touched down (sort of) in the woods.

"If my calculations are correct, about two and a half pounds should be sufficient," Doc said, "Gentlemen, Johnny-5, come with me. The rest of you stay here with David; make sure no harm befalls him if Catledge somehow pulls a sneak attack behind our backs. If you're attacked, Max, take off and head as far away from here as possible. You can pick us up after the threat has passed. Just keep us informed over the walkie-talkies. And now gentlemen, let's move out."

He, Marty, and the rest of the men hopped down the stairs, waiting for Johnny-5 to catch up with them. They slipped through a large hole in the fence surrounding the plant and galloped toward the rear entrance to the plant. Even with Doc's comment, Marty was surprised how light the security at the plant was. There was practically no one around at all, in fact. "Have you heard some of the rumors surrounding the meltdown, Doc?" he asked as they entered radiation suit room, "That some idiot walked right in and fried the reactor without killing himself? And somehow there's something about a talking duck being....?"

"Talking duck?" Wayne asked, puzzled, "I haven't heard that one yet." He set down the crate with his shrinking machine (Doc had requested he bring it "just in case") and slipped into one of the suits.

"I've heard many of the rumors," Doc said, "At this time I can't comment on...."

He stopped as the sound of a plane flying low overhead caught all their attention. "I hope that wasn't Catledge-related," Doc mused, "Our position is now very much clear to him if he watches the radar."

"Come on, Dr. Brown, would his response really be THAT fast?" Newton posed.

"Don't underestimate Dale Catledge, Newton," Doc warned him, "Numerous people have and are no longer alive because of it. The man has no empathy for anyone or anything. I cite the moment when word reached us in Alamogordo of the firebombing of Dresden. While most of us, including myself, were appalled at the devastation caused by the Allied air command, Catledge expressed great displeasure that greater destruction wasn't leveled on all those innocent civilians. Indeed, he confided in me that if it had been up to him, he would have loaded the planes with our plutonium and let the poor German populace have it."

"You sure keep coming up with a load of horror stories with this guy, Doc," Marty said.

"And they're all the truth, Marty," Doc said, "Here's another you might want to know: One night after the Trinity test, I caught him on the phone with Lavrenti Beria-in person."

"Beria? Stalin's secret police chief?" Wayne asked.

"And the person that madman put in charge of his nuclear program," Doc said darkly, "From what I inferred from the conversation, Catledge's intention was to sell the Bolsheviks key nuclear secrets in return for a high position in the Politburo once Stalin launched World War III against the free world and capitalism. Thankfully Stalin died, perhaps, as evidence now suggests, at Beria's own hands, and that never came to fruitation. But the fact is they came close to destroying the world together."

There was an uneasy silence. Doc looked at his watch as he slipped on the gloves to his radiation suit. "Well, we'd best get moving," he said, "Our best bet lies in the reactor itself and its vicinity."

It was a long and winding trip through the guts of the power plant. As before, though, they had the advantage of virtually no one being around. The only guard they saw looked at least ninety to Marty, and he was sound sleep at his post. He figured that since most of the mess from the meltdown had been cleaned up, people weren't as concerned with the plant's safety anymore, for some bizarre reason.

The reactor door was wide open. Doc produced a strange object that looked like an elongated vacuum cleaner. "I'll handle the sentient radiation in the reactor," he told the others, "Spread out and look for active plutonium capsules and the like."

Marty walked into a large storage facility next to the reactor room. "Let's see, plutonium, plutonium, where are you?" he asked out loud. After several minutes of searching, he came across a familiar-looking type of crate with radiation warnings on them. "Found it Doc," he called out, "Give me a hand with this, guys."

Newton helped him pick up the other end. They carried it out into the hallway. Marty opened it up. "Damn, only three canisters," he muttered, "Will this be enough, Doc?"

"Hopefully," was all Doc said as he went about sucking up apparently thin air from inside the reactor, "I'm getting very high levels of energy in here, so I think..."

Too late Marty heard the footsteps coming up the hall behind them. There was no mistaking the gun at the back of his head, however, and the seemingly unintelligible shouts that came with it. "Doc!" he breathed in horror.

"What?" Doc looked up. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of who the visitors were. "It can't be!" he gasped, "It can't!"

"It is, Doc," Marty said weakly. He was ordered to turn around, and for the second time in his life found himself staring straight into the cold, emotionless eyes of the Libyans.

"You know these guys?" Wayne asked Doc as he and Newton puts their hands up as one of the Libyans gestured with their guns for them to do so.

"Unfortunately yes," Doc's voice stung with regret over having made his transaction with the Libyans in the first place—the transaction that in an unaltered timeline got him murdered.

"Dr. Brown you Yankee dog, you thought you could run from us forever?" one of the Libyans snarled in broken English, "Now you pay for all you did to us!"

"Uh, can we have a ten second running head start?" Marty proposed, "It'll make it more interesting, you know."

"Forget it!" shouted the other Libyan. They put their fingers on the triggers....

"Hello boys," Johnny-5 caught the Libyans from behind and relieved them of their weapons in a flash, "Let me show you the door." He tossed them like rag dolls into a closet door to their left, stunning them.

"That's our signal to get moving," Doc waved the others down the corridor toward the way they'd come in. Angry Arabic shouts behind them told them the Libyans were back in charge of their functions. Heavy machine gun fire raked at their feet as they turned the corner. "These guys don't know when to stop," Marty shrugged.

"And the bad part is, if they fire around nuclear infrastructures such as this one, it's entirely conceivable that they could start another, worse meltdown with a well-placed shot," Doc theorized, "Hence we need to escape them A.S.A.P."

But it turned out they'd gone straight from the frying pan to the fire, for their path out was blocked by four large and hulking robots that looked like a Terminator-style replica of Johnny-5. "Robot alert, Dr. Emmett Brown and associates located," one of them buzzed. Each of the four robots produced what looked like four heavy guns from their multiple arms. "Engage and incapacitate," the first robot droned, "Open fire."

All the robots let loose with a wild barrage of machine gun-style laser fire. "This way!" Newton dragged everyone into a power room and bolted the door. "I can't believe it, they're using the 2Bs against us!" he gasped.

"What are the 2Bs?" Marty wasn't totally sure he wanted to know.

"They're the next generation of what Johnny-5 is now," Newton explained, "The brass at Nova liked my designs for the SAINT model so much they commissioned a second one more powerful than the original model almost immediately. Since I was disgusted they'd turned my design into a weapon to begin with, I told Howard I wanted no part in a next generation model. I guess he found someone willing to do it, because otherwise we wouldn't be staring down the gun sights of the SAINT 2B right now.

"So the big question is, how do we got out of here?" Marty asked as the laser fire started destroying the locked door.

"Stand back," Johnny-5 lowered his laser and blew a large hole in the wall. They scrambled through it just as the door gave way. "Dr. Emmett Brown, stay where you are," one of the robots warned him as he kicked open the door to the power room next door. It fired a blast that destroyed a power coupling and plunged that section of the plant into darkness for a few seconds until the emergency lights came on.

"Well, at least you can't say we're not getting our exercise for the day," Wayne shrugged as they dashed down the next hall as fast as they could.

"GRENADE!!" Marty screamed as one landed just in front of them. They just had enough time to dive out of the way before it exploded. Loud Arabic shouts told them the Libyans were hot on their tail again. "This is utterly insane!" the teen lamented, "If I'd known Dale Catledge would go THIS far to stop us, I'd've stayed in bed this morning!"

"Don't let them hit the plutonium!" Doc warned him as a shot from one of the Libyans almost hit the trunk carrying the radioactive cartridges. "I'll tell you, now I can certainly imagine what Harry Potter felt like when the Death Eaters were chasing him and his friends around the Department of Mysteries in Order..." the senior scientist started to say. He stopped, groaned and banged his head off the wall once they were out of harm's way again. "You're slipping, Brown!" he shouted to himself, "Two unnecessary future revelations in two days! Especially when J.K. Rowling hasn't even invented the character yet!"

"Who's J.K. Rowling?" Marty had never heard of anyone even closely named that before.

"You'll like her in due time, Marty," Doc told him quickly.

"More trouble!" Newton gasped. Ahead of them was a trio of robots that looked exactly like Johnny-5—his co-creations, Marty figured. "Hold and incapacitate Dr. Emmett Brown; fire." one ordered the others. Unlike their successors models, these ones only had a single laser to wreak havoc with. But like their distant cousins, they were deadly accurate with their aims. One passed so close to Marty's head that he could feel a stinging heat even with the protection of a radiation hood. "This is going to Hell!" he groaned.

"Elevation forty-two degrees, fire," the robots droned, firing off more blasts. "Dr. Emmett Brown, stay where you are." they threatened as the group ran into a bathroom. Almost immediately they realized they'd made a mistake. "Great, we're cornered," Marty groaned. There was no other way out. Moments later the door exploded open. "There is no escape," one of the robots announced, "Surrender, Dr. Emmett Brown, or face imminent disintegration."

"I have not yet begun to fight," Doc had a strange glint in his eyes. He ran toward one of the mirrors over the sink and stuck out his tongue at the robots. They all fired and blew the mirror clean off the wall. Doc picked it up and stuck out his tongue again. This time when the robots fired, he held the mirror in front of himself so that the laser shots ricocheted off it and blew the robots up instead with loud sizzles.

"Whoa, that likes parted their hair, pilgrim," Johnny-5 exclaimed in a John Wayne impersonation as he examined the smoking hulks of his "brothers."

"Yeah, but there's still a ton of agitators out there wanting a piece of us," Doc said, throwing down the mirror, "Let's see if our path out of here is still blocked."

"Dr. Emmett Brown, stay where you are," came the next generation robots' orders from outside the bathroom. Everyone screamed and jumped into the stalls as the machine gun laser blasts tore the bathroom apart. Marty noticed a lead piped from a disable toilet lying at his feet. Having a brainstorm, he watched as one of the robots separated itself from the others. As it cruised near his stall, he leaped out and clunked it over the head with the pipe. Unfortunately, this had no effect on the robot, which turned its head slowly toward him. "That was a mistake," it told him, shoving a laser gun in his face. Before it could fire, however, Johnny-5 somehow leaped on its back and covered its "eyes." "Guess who?" he asked it playfully.

"Dr. Howard Marner, Ph.D?" the robot guessed.

"EEEEEEEEPPPP!!! Wrong answer!" the older robot said.

"Dr. Benjamin Jabituya?" the killer robot tried again.

"No way, you're cold as an iceberg!"

"Dr. Norman...?" the robot didn't get a chance to finish. Newton crawled out form under his stall, opened up the robot's control panel, and pressed the big red button inside to shut down its functions. The robot slumped to the ground, no longer a threat. "Sorry, you lose, buster!" Johnny-5 taunted it.

"There's our way out," Doc pointed to a large hold in the bathroom wall the robots' fire had opened. They rushed out through it, just avoiding the remaining robots' resumed fire. "If my calculations are correct," Doc went on, "Two left and a right should get us out of here unscathed—hopefully."

"You are wrong, Dr. Brown!" all of a sudden, they were pushed up against the wall by the Libyans. "You can run from us as fast as you can," one of them told him, but now you die once and for all!"

He and his associate cocked their rifles. Marty closed his eyes. This looked like the end...

And then he heard a loud zapping sound. When he opened his eyes, the Libyans were no longer there. "Hey, where'd they go?" he asked, puzzled.

"I can explain," Wayne spoke up. Marty saw he'd taken out his shrinking machine. "Dr. Brown, I shrunk the Libyans," he told his mentor.

Doc's eyes went wide at the thought of this. He glanced down at the ground. "Great Scott!" he exclaimed, "This does successfully reduce objects' mass!" He bent down and picked apparently nothing up. "Marty, examine this!" he held up his hand. Marty gasped in surprise; the Libyans were now about the size of ants. "Holy...!" he exclaimed. The Libyans were screaming in terror at their predicament.

"Wayne, normally I don't approver of human experimentation," Doc told his former pupil, "But under the circumstances, I have to say thanks."

"Well, don't mention it," Wayne shrugged, "I can always re-enlarge them if you want to."

"Perhaps at a later time; right now exit is our first priority," Doc picked up a discarded plutonium vial that just happened to be lying nearby (he ran his plutonium vacuum-thing over it before nodding in approval) and carefully dropped the Libyans inside. He capped it in a way that still left them with a good air supply and pocketed the vial.

"Dr. Emmett Brown, stay where you are," came the unpleasant sounds of the other robots behind them. The four of them took off running, trying hard to avoid the blasts. "That's it, no more Mr. Nice Robot!" Johnny-5 swore and returned fire, mildly wounding several of the robots. One of them in fact slowed to a stop, disabled, but the other two kept coming with all the firepower they had. "Temper temper!" the older modeled robot scolded them.

The group finally made it outside the power plant and back through the fence. "Incoming plutonium!" Marty called to everyone in the spaceship, haphazardly tossing the case through the doorway. They ducked as several laser blasts from the still pursuing robots zoomed overhead, a couple hitting the inside of the spacecraft but causing no apparent harm. Thinking with a little more intelligence now, Marty pulled back the branch of the nearest tree and let it go at he nearest robot, taking off its head. "Hold your positions, don't light a match," it droned confusedly.

"Marty, come on!" Doc waved him up the stairs. Marty managed to avoid the blasts from the final robots and pushed a still firing Johnny-5 up the steps after him. "Max, floor it!" he asked the alien.

"There's been several jets circling the area for the last ten minutes," Stephanie informed them.

"Catledge," Doc mused, "He knows." He rushed up to the alien. "Max, can you go Mach 4?" he asked him.

"I can move at any speed through your dense atmosphere, I can speak hundreds of languages, I can..." Max told him.

"We get the idea," Doc interrupted him, "Just go at Mach 4 around the earth for about ten minutes and they'll lose radar contact with us completely."

"Compliance," Max activated several unseen functions, and the next thing Marty knew, they were going faster than he'd ever gone before, so fast the landscapes below were mere streaks of color. "I think I'm going to be sick!" he mused to himself.

Back at NASA, Catledge stared at his radar screen as the blip showing the spaceship's location suddenly became misty and spread out all over the globe. "Faraday, what the hell's going on with the radar!?" he demanded over the intercom to his associate.

"I don't know," Faraday told him, "We're losing them down here too."

Catledge pounded his fists on his desk in frustration. "BROOOOOOOOWWN!!!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.


	13. McFlying Around the World

THIRTEEN

July 18, 1986

1:31 p.m. EDT

"Dr. Catledge, here's the information you requested from Skiles," Gately announced to his boss as he entered his office, Doc's blueprints and notes in hand, "Still no word from either the mercenaries or the robots since our last check with them a half hour ago. Something tells me our friend Dr. Brown disabled them."

"Perfect," Catledge muttered, snatching the blueprints off Gately, "Let me see those". He put on his reading glasses and examined the notes closely. "Good, good, now I see what was wrong with Fugett's planning," he said to Haeckel, showing his dog the notes, "He was using the wrong system and not enough power. Well, now that I see how our pal Dr. Red did it, we can just copy his systems and make ourselves very rich and powerful indeed."

"The DeLorean parts are downstairs if you want to look at them," Gately said. Catledge didn't answer. He was watching the closed circuit cameras in the tracking room. "We found Miss MacAdams, Dr. Faraday," one of Scroeder's men told Catledge's protégé as they pushed a protesting Carolyn into the room. "Hey, not so hard!" she was telling them.

"Give me a minute here, Gately, I want to see what if anything we can learn about how our finds were spirited away from us by Blue," Catledge told him. He lounged back in his chair and watched the screen as Faraday strode over to the intern and said rather curtly, "Their perceived harshness is the least of your concerns, Miss MacAdams. You're going to tell me exactly how Emmett Brown was able to take David out of here right now."

July 18, 1986

5:36 a.m. local time

"Great Scott!" Doc was lamenting, scanning parts of the spaceship's wall with an irregular looking futurist device, "The robots' fire serious compromised the polymer shell!"

"Compromised? Exactly how bad is that, Doc?" Marty asked him. They were talking in low tones, since everyone else was now asleep, the three a.m. wakeup call finally getting to them. Neither Marty nor his friend was in any condition to nod off. Both were too excited for differing reasons.

"There are large holes in the walls in ceiling in six different locations; see for yourself," Doc held up the device to Marty's face. Marty really couldn't understand anything the screen was showing, but he nodded along anyway. "So that's bad, huh?" he reasoned.

"It's even worse than no protection at all," Doc told him, "The edges of polymer shells invite friction and burning, so when temporal transference is attempted by us, a load of heat and pressure will build up along the breakage points. This could conceivably set off a mild explosion that could damage the ship irreparably and destroy any chance of getting David back to 1978 in one piece! And I used up all the spray earlier because I failed to foresee this possibility occurring!"

"Well, I don't think any of us could have expected to be attacked by the Libyans and several homicidal robots," Marty told him encouragingly. He felt it was time to change the subject. "How're we looking on the jigowatts, then, Doc?" he asked him.

"If my calculations are correct, the plutonium we were able to get our hands on, added to the energy we'll extract by putting our radiation suits into Mr. Fusion brings our total up to approximately 4.93 jigowatts," Doc told him. "With any luck, we'll soon come across a location with ample trash to pour in. In about a half hour I should have the time circuits all set up and ready for a full-scale test."

"Sounds great, Doc," Marty said. He looked out the front window and frowned. "Should it be getting darker?" he asked out loud, "Are we sure we're going the right way?"

"It was a left turn," Max said defensively, "I can triangulate any position."

"Are you sure about that?" Marty raised his eyebrows, "We did end up in the middle of the ocean after the Mach 4—Lord knows what ocean, even."

"Positive."

"That looks like Miami down there, "David pointed to a large mass of lights below.

"I told you so," Max gloated. A closer look, however, proved otherwise. "This isn't Miami, it's Tokyo," the boy exclaimed, pointing out all the Japanese characters on the buildings.

"Uh, I knew that," Max said sheepishly.

"From now on, let me do the navigating," David told his extraterrestrial friend.

"Oh really, Mr. Smart Guy who got a D in geography?" Max posed.

"How'd you know that?" David asked, amazed. When Max merely laughed, he shrugged and said, "Oh well, I'll just back this out of here and go back…"

"Wait a minute," Doc interceded, "The longer we stay out here over international air space, the safer we'll be from Catledge and Faraday's forces—and the more time we'll have to put this together."

He gestured to the electronic paraphernalia he was setting up. "Sounds good," David agreed, "I always wanted to see a lot of the world, anyway."

He pushed forward, and soon Tokyo was far behind them. "You're doing well with it, Dave," Marty lauded him, "It's been smooth sailing since you took over."

"Thanks," David smiled, "I feel like I'm doing something good for once in a long time."

"Like I told you, all it takes is a little self-confidence," Marty said.

"Say Max," Doc hailed down the alien as it zoomed by, "If it's not too much of a difficulty, now that you've finished research on David, I was wondering if you'd be interested in more human research?"

He held up the jar with the Libyans inside. "Hmm," Max examined it closely, "Is there anything about them I should know?"

"These gentlemen display one of the sadder sides of humanity," Doc told him, "Most human beings are decent people, but these gentlemen represent a darker side. I think any information you might garner on them—as long as you treat them with civility, as I believe in not harming people," he said, leaning very close to the lip of the jar, his voice no doubt sounding akin to God's to the shrunken Libyans, Marty figured, "…might provide a reasonable contrast to the information you received from David. Indeed, research on these two over the next couple of years might help humanity, since these two become high-profile members in al—well, a highly unorthodox organization that in the near future commits a hideous atrocity against humanity. While not having them here on Earth won't stop this disaster from occurring, it could conceivably delay it."

"So you want to send the Libyans to Phaelon, huh Doc," Marty asked, "Nice payback."

Doc smiled mischievously. Max stuck his eye through the gap in the jar's lid, prompting another horrified scream from the Libyans. "Well, I'll crank up my magnificent marble machines and see what I can do with them," he said, "This might be fun; more human information."

"Just make sure to re-enlarge them after you're done if you have the technology," Doc said. He looked into the jar himself now. "Don't worry, boys," he told them, "You'll like Phaelon. It's a good respite from the California penal system, and at least you won't have to worry about formulating an escape plan now."

Marty smiled at the thought. Then another thought entered his mind. "Say Max," he asked the alien, "Does this thing only fly for David? If it doesn't, I'd like to take a try with it."

"You want to step behind the stick and give it a whirl, flyboy?" Max asked him, "Now this I must see."

"All right," Marty strolled over to the big chair. "Let the next guy have a seat, Dave," he told the boy, "I'll give it back in a little while."

"Sure," David shrugged and got up, "Just don't change the settings on anything. I don't want it all out of whack when I take over again."

"And please don't do anything reckless, Marty," Doc told him, "I can't afford to have any of this equipment here damaged."

"Don't worry Doc," Marty sat down and put his hands on top of the control disks. "All right, I feel the need for speed," he said (he'd seen Top Gun twice already over the summer) and pushed the disks forward as far as he could. The spaceship shot forward rather fast (although no one woke up), and soon Japan was behind them and the Chinese coast was upon them. "Shanghai," Marty mused, bringing it down reasonably low to the streets so that he could see the activity going on below. It looked so picturesque, as no postcard could capture. "Hey Doc, you should see this," he said, "It looks a lot like the intro they run before the movie on HBO; you know, where they go down through the city and the toy cars come by and..."

"What's HBO?" David asked him, looking very confused.

"Uh, you'll find out," Marty told him, "I hope."

"Amazing," Doc came forward to stare out the window, "I always dreamed of visiting China, before the Cold War made it impossible. Most fascinating land."

China was soon far behind, and they were heading for the subcontinent. "Taj Mahal," Marty pointed to the familiar landmark, "This is heavy."

On a whim, he swerved the spacecraft around each of the spires of the majestic palace. This started making Doc look ill. "OK, very amusing Marty, now let's get back on a straight track," he said.

"Relax Doc, everything's under control," Marty zoomed off toward the north.

"Did you ever have the feeling you was bein' watched?" Max abruptly asked in a Bugs Bunny voice, "We've got earthly aerial travelers behind us."

"Let me see," Marty looked toward the back of the ship as it became transparent. "Great, MiGs!" he groaned. About a half dozen of them were now on their tail. "We must have wandered into Soviet air space," he figured, "Well, we'll see if those video game hours come in handy, like Wild Gunman did for 1885."

He swerved wildly to the left into an Immelmann. "Marty, this is not advisable," Doc protested, but it was too late for it. Seeing the MiGs following him into a dive, Marty pulled up at the very last second before impact, subjecting everyone still awake inside the ship to about 6 Gs. The front most MiG was unable to pull up and slammed into the ground. The rest were soon back on his tail. Several air-to-air missiles were fired straight at him, but Marty was able to zoom out of harm's way. Then he saw one was coming at him from the front, firing its machine guns wildly. Caught in a vise, he nevertheless didn't panic. When the one in front of him was only a few feet away, he pulled the ship upward into a loop-the-loop that sent Doc backpedaling to save the amplifier from tipping over and shattering. A loud explosion told Marty that a collision had occurred below. "Whooo!" he shouted, "This is getting good."

"Missed us by that much," Max said in a Maxwell Smart impression.

"Marty, stop fooling around!" Doc scolded him, "We can't risk an aerial confrontation! Head to the southwest, out of their airspace."

"Check," Marty nudged them off toward the specified direction. Within minutes the Arabian deserts were below them. "What city do you think that is?" he said, pointing to one straight ahead of them.

"Looks like Baghdad," Doc figured, "I wouldn't get too low; Saddam Hussein won't hesitate to shoot at any object over his skies."

"Who's Saddam Hussein?" David was even more confused now.

"Yeah Doc, who's Saddam…?" Marty started to ask.

"Watch it!" Doc shouted just a bit too late. They had drifted too low among the Baghdad rooftops and glanced off the side of a building on which, ironically, Hussein and his lieutenants were reviewing a military parade passing below them. The spaceship destroyed the balcony they were standing on, sending the brutal despot and his cronies tumbling, fittingly, into a manure cart parked below. Doc looked out the back of the ship at Hussein's predicament. "Good, he isn't dead," he commented, "This would have been a serious effect on future history if he died here and now—albeit in a primarily positive way."

"What does he do?" David asked. Marty, who'd rarely heard of Saddam, would have liked an answer himself, but before Doc could even think of answering, they'd entered Africa. "Hey, the Serengeti," Marty pointed to the great African plains before them, glistening in the early strains of sunrise, "Now this is something I've always wanted to see."

With no buildings around, he took the craft low to the ground. Wildlife zipped by them on all sides. It was like some sort of hyper-National Geographic experience. He skimmed over the surface of a waterhole, sending a few crocodiles and ibises scattering for cover. Noticing elephants nearby, he was tempted to try and push the spaceship under one's legs, but at the last minute decided against it. Next they were maneuvering out over the Sahara and across the Mediterranean toward Italy. "Anyone up for a Roman holiday?" he asked half-jokingly as they went over the Eternal City.

"If we had more time, maybe," Doc said. He was back at the circuits again. "Ah, here we go," he said, raising the flux capacitor into place, "That part's done. Now all I have to do is connect the destination controls and…" he expression dropped when he realized they were heading down again at a high rate of speed. "Marty, what in the name of Johannes Kepler are you doing now!?" he demanded.

"Showing the Commies that people shouldn't be held in oppression," Marty said. He was diving over East Berlin, heading straight for the wall.

"Marty, don't, they'll be tearing it down in three years anyway!" Doc protested. It was to no avail, as Marty plowed right through the wall, leaving a big hole behind. "Hey Doc, don't worry, it'll be erased like you said," Marty said in self-defense, aiming westward toward France.

"All right Marty, I know you mean well, but you're taking this flying way too far!" Doc told him, "I know this ship can take a severe beating from earthly technology and keep ticking, but if you keep subjecting this to…" he cried out and covered his eyes as they zoomed under the Eiffel Tower with only a few feet to spare.

"Relax Doc, I've got it under control," Marty reassured him. He next approached London and circled around Big Ben at high speed several times, spinning equipment in every direction. Looking heavily seasick, Doc scrambled to put them back in place. "That's enough!" he sputtered, "I demand you give David control back now!"

"Are you sure I have to?" Marty was disappointed, "I haven't been THAT reckless, Doc."

"For the sake of our stomachs, I strongly urge that you relinquish control!" Doc told him. Marty sighed. "Well, here you go again, Dave," he said, giving the seat back to the youngster.

"That was fun, "David told him with a big smile on his face, "I should do that more often."

"Actually David, I would advise…." Doc was cut off as David gunned the ship at just as reckless a speed toward the Arctic. "Not again!" he moaned, clinging hard to the wall as they accelerated to almost a thousand miles an hour, "I can't take much more of this!"

"Could you keep it down PLEASE!!!" Amy chided the scientist, "I'm trying to sleep here!"

"Right, sorry," Doc said sheepishly. Trying to ignore the churning sensation in his stomach, he crawled back over to the time circuits and started working on them again.


	14. Back in the USA

FOURTEEN

July 18, 1986

2:13 p.m. EDT

"I certainly hope you're not keeping something from me here," Faraday said, glaring over Carolyn for what had to be the fifteenth time over the last hour or so.

"I've told you, all I told Dr. Brown was that you'd be keeping David for the next two weeks," Carolyn said, exasperated, "I specifically told him not to try anything; he broke David out on his own accord."

"Still, you broke classified information to someone who did not need to know," Faraday said sternly, "And I hope you realize that this carries a severe jail sentence for you."

"Look, I…" Carolyn sputtered for words, "This is not…not what you're trying to make this out as. I am not some type of treacherous person. I just thought David could use a friend. And Dr. Brown clearly just wanted to help"

"So you be his friend by letting him fall into the hands of a crackpot?" Faraday sneered, not believing her at all, "That makes perfect sense. Listen to me; I'm just trying to get him back. Now if…"

"Faraday, they're coming back into U.S. airspace," Marner called over.

"Where are they now?" Faraday ran over to the radar.

"They're coming down the Oregon coast," Marner told him, "They'll be in northern California very soon. I thought they'd never leave the North Pole."

"I thought we'd never leave the North Pole," Wayne said out loud at that very moment as they zipped along the Pacific Coast.

"Well, all that time came in handy," Doc said, looking over his completed time circuitry, "We are now in theory ready to go when needed."

"Well then, let's get going," David said.

"Not quite yet," Doc told him, "Firstly, we still aren't quite at the power threshold of temporal displacement, and secondly, we need to have that displacement occur over Fort Lauderdale in order for the continuum to be seamlessly repaired. Sending you through time now would land you in northern California, far away from where you should be in 1978."

"Oh," David looked disappointed.

"It's pretty impressive what you've done here, Dr. Brown," Nick said, looking over the senior scientist's work, "Have you seen that new show MacGyver on ABC? This is kind of what he does in every episode, making something out of nothing."

"Yes, I first saw it four years from now," Doc told him, "That's one of the added benefits of time travel; I can see what shows are really worth watching. At any rate, let's see if the circuitry's up to par."

He threw the familiar time circuit switch on. The multi-colored time displays sputtered on, went out for a moment, then sputtered on again and flickered. "Almost there," Doc mused, "Once we establish a few more kilowatts, we'll be ready."

"Sounds good, Doc," Marty gave him the thumbs-up.

"Hey, here's San Francisco," David pointed out the window as the Golden Gate Bridge came upon them.

"Rice-a-Roni, the San Francisco Treat!" Max buzzed, imitating the rice company's trolley bell, "Watch out for those cables!"

"Gatorade is thirst aid for that deep down body thirst!" Johnny-5 hummed at the extraterrestrial, apparently hoping to start something interesting between them.

"I'm a Pepper, you're a Pepper, they're a Pepper, we're all Peppers, wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?" Max took the bait.

"We're Bartles and Jaymes, and we thank you for your support," Johnny-5 added on.

"OK, we didn't come on this spaceship to sing advertising jingles," Stephanie said, laughing.

"I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony," both metallic beings crooned together, "I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company."

Marty couldn't control his own laughter. "You know, I think you two should open your own Broadway act once we get this over and done with," he told them, "You'd kill everyone in New York with laughter."

"Just as long as I get my own dressing room!" Max chortled, buzzing by Marty's face.

"Boy, when we transferred those star charts into your mind, we sure made you a different person," Marty commented to him.

"I feel different, so different I'd say I ain't Max no more," the alien said, whipping around in place a few times wildly.

"I like you better this way, Max," David told him, smiling. "Well, if we're supposed to go to Fort Lauderdale, what do you say we start heading back that way?" he asked everyone.

"By all means, but I'd advise we stay low so that we don't attract any Air Force personnel," Doc told him, "We're still wanted people."

"Gotcha," David swerved toward the east, and within moments the Sierra Nevada was looming just below them. "You're still doing good," Marty encouraged him.

"Thanks," David smiled at him, "I feel like I'm doing good for once in my life. I wish that creep Joey could see me now; it would wipe his big ugly smile right off his face."

"Joey?"

"He's the snotty rich kid in my neighborhood from back in 1978," David explained, "He's always showing off and taunting everyone who isn't in his clique about how he can do things no one else can. Just one of these days I'm going to show him off once and for all and prove that I'm not a dork."

This statement triggered Marty's memory. He thought over Wayne's words about David's fate from back in Hill Valley: "HE TRIED TO ANSWER A DARE FROM ANOTHER KID…HIS BOAT TIPPED OVER AND HE DROWNED." What David had just proposed doing would fit that described death just perfectly. "Well, it's good and nice to get the better of someone who deserves it," he told the boy, "But if there's one thing I've learned from traveling through time, it's that you don't lash out every time someone calls you a chicken."

"It's not just me, Marty, he takes it to everyone," David told him, "I'd be getting him for everybody in Fort Lauderdale. Now I think it's right to stand up for what you believe in, especially if someone else has been wronged."

Marty looked over his shoulder to make sure Doc's attention was diverted elsewhere. "Listen," he said softly, "There's something I need to tell you about after you go…"

"Scotty to bridge, they're on our tail again!" Max buzzed, cutting Marty off in mid-stream. The alien made the back of the ship transparent again, showing a half dozen F-16s in hot pursuit. "Already?" Newton groaned, "It's almost as if they've just been waiting for us."

"And they probably have," Doc added. Thinking quickly, the senior scientist pointed to a low bluff ahead of them to their right. "Down and behind there," he directed David, "I saw a map of this bluff in 2213; right now there's a large cave on the other side. Get over there as fast as you can and go inside. We'll lose them that way."

David poured on speed, zipping over the bluff and down into the cave in question. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now we wait until we can be sure they've gone," Doc said, examining one of his many watches. A long tedious wait began, as everyone held still, half-expecting their pursuers to come roaring in through the cave entrance after them. Finally, after about ten minutes, Doc nodded and said, "OK, we're probably clear now. Protocol forbids them pursuing longer."

David took the ship back up into the Southwestern skies. "It looks like we're over Texas," he mused, looking down at the landscape below.

"Well partner, let's mosey on down and see if we can get a clear view of where we are," Max said in a Texan accent.

"I can't make heads or tails of this place," Wayne admitted, staring out the window, "This doesn't look like anything we saw from the plane on the way to Florida."

"And it's too bad we can't stop and ask for directions in this thing," Amy admitted.

"Who says we can't?" Johnny-5 pointed down to a convertible driving on the road below them, "Directions there, just stop and ask, inquire, pose, question."

"Well, it's worth a try," David shrugged, bringing the ship toward the intersection the car was now stopping at. As they got closer, the sound of the car's radio could be heard in the confines of the spaceship. "What's that strange sound?" Max inquired.

"It's music," David told him, "Songs. I've never heard this one before. Maybe it's that Twisted Sister stuff Carolyn told me about."

"No, that's not Twisted Sister," Amy told him, "I'd know it when I hear it."

"Well, let's see what they can do for us," David walked over to the rear of the spacecraft, which opened up. "Excuse me," he called to the people in the car, "Could you tell us how to get to Fort Lauderdale?"

"Try to make your directions clear and concise," Max added, popping up over David's shoulder. Predictably, the people screamed at the sight of an alien and sped off as fast as they could. "Were those geeks?" Max asked.

"Yes Max, those were geeks," David told him.

"I've got it," Doc ran over holding his star compass, which was lighting up red again. "Go in that direction," he told David, pointing to what Marty guessed was the east, "We'll be in a direct line with Florida that way."

"Gotcha Dr. Brown," David jumped back into the pilot seat and zoomed off in the specified direction. "Could you show me more music, David?" Max asked him.

"Uh, sure," David said, but he looked puzzled as to how to do this. He looked around for assistance. Wayne stepped in. "Music here on earth is sent as radio waves through the air," he told Max, "If you find the right frequency, you'll get music."

"Hmm," Max mulled this over. He zipped over to the wall near the front of the ship and made strange static sounds, as if he was adjusting the dial of a radio. He went through several stations of irritating and unorthodox music before settling on "I Get Around" on one of them. "Now that's music," David smiled, glad to hear a song he actually knew. "You've got to move like this, Max," he told the alien, scooting around in the chair to the Beach Boys' beat. Max did the equivalent of this. "No, no, like this!" Johnny-5 told him, zooming around. "My buddies and me are getting real well known," the robot sang along, "The bad guys know us and they leave us alone. I get around…"

"Come on Doc, get in the groove," Marty told his friend, joining in the fun. Doc shrugged and broke into an admittedly square dance routine. Soon everyone was singing and dancing to the tune as they zoomed over Texas canyons. "I like music!" Max was chuckling, clearly enjoying himself.

"This is WHOU in Houston with the Beach Boys here on this hot summer afternoon," the DJ announced once the song was over, "Currently we're looking at clear skies and highs in the upper 80s. Continuing with our nonstop hour of hits, here's a current chart topper from Huey Lewis and the News."

"All right!" Marty exclaimed as a very familiar song came over the airwaves now.

"You know this one?" David asked him.

"Yeah, I love this one, it's the theme to one of my favorite movies, about a…" Marty noticed the look Doc was giving him. "Well, you'll find out soon," he said quickly, "I hope." Then he started reeling all over the cabin, singing away with the lyrics: "The power of love is a curious thing; make one man weep, make another man sing…"

"What the hell is going on in there?" Marner asked, puzzled by the sounds of Lewis and his band coming through on the sound monitor.

"I have no idea," Faraday told him, "It almost sounds like they're having a backyard barbeque in…"

Suddenly emergency sirens sounded throughout the complex again. "Now what!? "Faraday groaned, "We can't afford another breach!" He rushed over to the tracking room door and opened it to see people running around in radiation suits, looking panicked. "Hey, what's going on now?" he asked a scientist running by.

"Dr. Faraday, the radiation testing machine just had a minor malfunction," the scientist told him, "It's leaking radiation. The entire research area's going to have to be quarantined."

"I see," Faraday said slowly, "Then why are you just standing there with that stupid look on your face?"

"Dr. Faraday, if we had put David in that machine as you'd proposed, he'd be dead now!" the scientist told him emphatically, "We need to restructure the way we do the research on him from now on!"

For a few seconds a look of shock crossed Faraday's face. Then it disappeared just as quickly as it came. "Well the important thing is he WASN'T in there," he told his associate, "so I want it back up and running again as soon as humanly possible."

"Don't you get it!?" the scientist was exasperated, "We CAN'T fix it! It'll keep leaking no matter what we'd do with it!"

"Then buy another one," Faraday said, frustrated, "This test is vital to national security."

"Dr. Far--!!" the scientist tried to protest, but Faraday slammed the tracking room door on him. "Dr. Marner, where are they now?" he asked him.

"They're just starting to cross the Gulf of Mexico," Marner told him.

"He's coming home," Faraday realized. He turned to everyone else in the room. "Okay, I want escort and an armed guard," he instructed them, "Get the tasers and other stun equipment ready; I think this one might get a little nasty."

He started toward the tracking room door again. Carolyn jumped in his path. "I can't let you do this," she told him firmly.

"Miss MacAdams, get out of my way," Faraday ordered her, "This is bigger than you can comprehend."

"Oh I can comprehend just fine!" Carolyn shouted, "And it's clear to me that you just want to get rich off David1 The poor kid's been through something terrible, and you could care less! So I'm telling you now, just let him go. He clearly doesn't want to come back here."

"This is of vital importance to national security!" Faraday shouted angrily, "Now I'm giving you one last warning; get out of my way or I'll lay even more charges on you than you're already facing!"

"No," Carolyn folded her hands across her chest. Faraday shoved her roughly aside. "Place her under arrest and make sure she stays out of our way," he told the nearest security personnel.

"Actually, Faraday, I would appreciate it if you sent Miss MacAdams up her for a minute," Catledge said over the intercom, "I'd like to have a word in private with her."


	15. Setup for a Showdown

FIFTEEN 

July 18, 1986

3:02 p.m. EDT

Catledge traced a pencil over Doc's blueprints, a dark smile imposed on his foul lips. "What do you think, Haeckel?" he asked his dog, showing it the revised designs, "I'd say I've got a winner here. Once we get that spaceship back into our hands, I'd say we've got the basic model for our time machine that'll get us ultimate power."

Haeckel barked in approval. Just then the door to his office swung open. "Here's Miss MacAdams to see you, Dr. Catledge," Gately announced.

"Look I'd rather not be in…" Carolyn protested as Catledge's aide shoved her into his tobacco-choked quarters and slammed the door shut behind them. "Take a seat," Catledge ordered her, not giving her the benefit of a glance. "Now, my dear, I believe you were being a bit difficult with my associate Dr. Faraday down there. You had better tell me everything you know about how my old friend Emmett Orange stole my greatest discovery from me."

"His name is Emmett Brown," Carolyn said strongly, "And let me say that he didn't steal David from you, you and Dr. Faraday stole David from his family. I can see that much now."

Without any warning, Catledge slammed his fist down hard on his desk. "Don't you dare try to second guess me, young lady!" he barked, "I know more about this than you do!"

"You're going to kill David if you put him through any of those tests you have assigned for him!" Carolyn shouted, "He's a poor scared kid who needs family, not solitary confinement!"

"We make due with what we have, and you have no right to question my methods," Catledge said curtly, advancing menacingly toward her, "Now this is your last opportunity. Tell me right now how you helped Green get my discoveries out of here, or it's going to get even more ugly in this office than it was with your father when I ended his military career prematurely."

"I've told you and Dr. Faraday everything about it for the last hour!!" Carolyn cried, exasperated, "Why can't you leave well enough alone? Why can't you leave David and that spaceship alone?"

"Because they hold the road to absolute wealth and power, the American dream, and I will have that dream come true for me," Catledge said darkly, "And nothing will stand in my way of achieving these goals?"

Carolyn gulped but managed to maintain at least an outward calmness. "My father was right then," she told the monster of a man before her, "You are a deranged madman!"

She spit at his feet and turned to run. The next few seconds happened in slow motion. Haeckel leapt in front of the office door before Carolyn could reach it and forced her backwards, growling savagely. Catledge grabbed her arm and pulled it painfully back. "Damn it to hell, give me an answer, how did you help Black!!??" he bellowed. Frightened, Carolyn kicked him in the shin in self-defense, to which Catledge responded by shoving her toward the window as hard as he could. There was a loud crash as the glass shattered and a horrific shriek as Carolyn plummeted down to earth, ending after about ten seconds with a sickening thud on the pavement below. Catledge strolled over to the window and looked down. "Well," he told Haeckel, "It probably was for the better. We wouldn't have gotten anything out of her anyway."

Footsteps caused him to whirl around to find himself looking at Gately, who couldn't have resisted the temptation to see what was going on in his boss's office firsthand. "I didn't see anything sir," Gately said quickly, throwing up his hands, "She tripped on the rug and fell out the window accidentally. That's the story I'll tell before the Supreme Court."

"It had better be if you know what's good for you," Catledge warned him. He walked back over to his desk and pressed several monitor control buttons on the wall in front of him. "Nothing but failures all day long!" he muttered out loud, "First security here, then my security back in Hill County, then those Libyans and robots. If you want anything done right you have to do it yourself!" He rose and lit up his pipe again. "Gately," he told the junior scientist, "Call Stansfield Base up in Daytona and tell them to send down the Overlorder posthaste."

"The Overlorder, sir?" Gately was shocked, "Sir, are we sure want to go THAT extreme in catching them? The Overlorder hasn't been fully tested yet, and if…"

"We'll find out what it's got, Gately, no better way to find out than a field test, I always say," Catledge cut him off, "Get on the horn and tell them to bring it here now, do you understand me?"

"Absolutely sir," Gately said sycophantically, "I'll make the call this minute."

He rushed back out of the office. Catledge looked up at the radar monitor on the wall. His quarry was about to enter the Florida panhandle. He knew they were headed for Fort Lauderdale, and when they got there, he'd be waiting for them with something not even Emmett Yellow and his crew could withstand.

July 18, 1986

3:29 p.m. EDT

"I think I can see a rest stop of some kind in front of us here," Doc pointed out the front window, "We should stop there and give David's family the notification that we should be arriving in no more than five hours or so. And it looks like I can see a dumpster from here, so Wayne, have your machine ready, we may need that trash in it for further fusion purposes."

"Gotcha, Dr. Brown," Wayne said, breaking up the crate and pulling out the magnificent shrinking machine that had so captivated Marty's attention.

They stopped above a small gas station and rest stop named Al's Gator City. Doc bounded down the steps and strolled over to a large heavyset man Marty assumed was the proprietor. "Pardon me sir," the scientist addressed this man, "Would you per chance have any electrical generators available? I need it for a nuclear reaction."

The man didn't answer. He was staring in shock at the spaceship. "Well then, would you mind if we borrow your dumpster over there?" Doc tried another tact, "I promise you'll get it back; once the space-time continuum is restored, it'll be right back there as if I never took it."

The owner again did nothing but stare at the ship. "I'll take that as a yes," Doc shrugged, "Wayne, if you will."

"Show me how this works," Marty asked his friend's former pupil as they skipped behind the store toward the dumpster. He had wanted to see something shrunk since yesterday.

"Okay, the first thing you do with this is bring it to power," Wayne put the ray on the ground and flicked several switches to rev it up. "Then you lock onto whatever you're going to want to shrink," he went on, twisting a dial as he watched through a video screen at the dumpster. A schematic of the mass and other dimensions appeared on the screen. A small red beam shot out of the ray and hit the dumpster, although this had no effect on it. "Then you increase the beam to maximum power," Wayne pushed up a control toggle, causing the laser to turn progressively bluer, "And when it hits peak mass, you hit the shrink button."

"All right, let's do it," Marty said encouragingly. Wayne hit the button, and a blast of blue electricity shot out of the ray and shrank the dumpster. As the ray started powering down, Marty ran over and picked up the dumpster, which was now about the size of a chestnut. "Awesome," he exclaimed, "I think you'll have a big market for this, whatever you plans to use it for."

"Well, I'm weighing my options, can't be too careful after I shrunk the kids and all…." Wayne started to say. He gasped and covered his mouth, realizing he'd just breeched a forbidden topic to another. "You shrunk you're kids?" Marty asked him. This admittedly made sense with some of the things he'd heard over the last forty-eight hours.

"Um, well, uh,…" Wayne was at a loss for words.

"It's okay, really," Marty told him, "Nothing worse than me being sent back in time and nearly causing myself never to be born. How'd it happen?"

"Uh," Wayne pulled him close, "You'll have to promise not to tell anyone about this, OK?"

"No problem," Marty said.

"It was strictly an accident," Wayne admitted, "One of the neighbors hit a baseball through window and turned the machine on. When they went up to the attic to get it, it shrunk them. Then I accidentally threw them out with the trash. My wife and I spent twenty-four hours searching for them before we finally found them and returned them to normal. I've been trying to come up with a way to keep it from happening again, but I haven't got a safety catch idea yet."

Before Marty could respond, Doc ran over shaking his head. "No generators," he informed them, "We'll have to look elsewhere. Do you have the dumpster?"

"Right here, Doc," Marty handed it to him. Doc looked it over and nodded. "Might as well make the call," he went on, "You have spare change?"

"Yep," Marty examined his pockets and found at least four dollars worth of quarters, "Just tell me what to dial." Then he realized something. "Wait a minute, Doc, I don't even know WHAT to dial."

"I'd better go ask David," Doc said.

"Good," Marty acknowledged as his friend strode off. "Hey pal," he asked the owner, "Where's your phone?"

"Around the back," the owner said weakly, unable to take his eyes off the spaceship.

"Thanks," Marty patted him on the back, "We need to phone home. Phone home? What am I saying?"

July 18, 1986

3:38 p.m.

"…reports of flying saucer activity around the world has proliferated over the last twenty-four hours," the newswoman was saying on the Freemans' TV, "Earlier, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, claiming to have been victimized by one of these crafts, openly accused the U.N. of trying to undermine him with them. And in Berlin, dozens of East Berliners have been pouring through a hole in the Wall that may have been caused by one of these vessels. The U.N. security counsel has decreed that a counsel be held on the matter as soon as possible. More on this story at eleven."

"Right," Mrs. Freeman muttered, "Eleven's too long."

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Biff asked, looking up from the plate of at least thirty hot dogs he'd forced her to cook up for him earlier, "We're all celebrities now. You'll be good for life. And better later on the story than never." He took her chin in his hand. "And if you need cheering up," he told her, "I'd be more than happy to…"

"Lay one finger on my wife and I'll tear your filthy head off!" Mr. Freeman warned him, "It's bad enough you're robbing me of my son; you're not taking anything else off me!"

"All right, fix the hernia," Biff told him smarmily. He walked over to the window and looked out on the lawn, where Scroeder's men were setting up searchlights and other equipment. "How's it going, Scroed?" he asked the security man.

"Scroed-ER!!" he told Biff sharply, "And we're doing just fine, thank you! We don't need your help!"

"I wasn't offering," Biff said.

Scroeder walked back into the house. "I'd better check in with headquarters," he announced and dialed the number for NASA. "Howard, we're all in position here," he told him.

"Very good, Scroeder," Marner said as he and Faraday climbed into a van at the base, "We'll be there in a couple of hours. Faraday'll bring you up to speed on the specifics."

He handed the phone to his associate. "Colonel Scroeder, we've got them on radar a little north of Tampa," Faraday told him, "Wait for them to come to you, then close the net."

"That's an affirmative, Dr. Faraday," Scroeder said, "We'll have them in…"

Mr. Freeman leapt up and seized the phone off Scroeder. "Faraday you jackass, I'll kill you for what you've done!" he shouted, "You lied to us!!"

"All right Bill, just pull yourself together," Faraday tried to calm him down.

"No I will not!" Mr. Freeman told him, "You promised you would let David go after forty-eight hours, and you…!!"

"You should have read the contract you signed more closely, Bill," Faraday told him curtly, "It specifically states that David would be available to us for forty-eight hours UNLESS CONDITIONS NECESSITATED OTHERWISE EXTENDING IT. And as it is, the situation became necessary for us to extend his stay indefinitely."

"Well its funny you didn't tell us about it when you had the chance to!" Mr. Freeman yelled, "And because you didn't you're going to get sued for more than you have!"

"You can sue me if you want, Bill, but the fact of the matter is that the documents are legal and binding, and will be upheld by any court in this country," Faraday told him, "And David is legally mine until we're finished running every single test we have planned. So any attempt on you to interfere with us is a felony and will be treated as such. Now don't call me again."

He hung up. Mr. Freeman slammed down the phone in disgust. "I'm going to kill him, I swear to God!" he growled.

"Yeah, well, he has money and power, and so does our backer, so suing him and killing him really make as much sense as a screen door on an aircraft carrier," Biff told him.

"You mean a screen door on a submarine," Jeff corrected him.

"Don't correct me," Biff said. The phone rang again. It's mine," he said, grabbing it before anyone else could reach the receiver. "Yo," he answered.

On the other end, Marty rolled his eyes. "Great, Biff!" he whispered to Doc.

"Who's Biff?" David asked him.

"A fool with a bad tendency for evil," Marty said. Thinking quickly, he lowered his voice again and said, "Good afternoon, I represent the Little Giant Vacuum Company of Walla Walla, Washington. I would like to speak to a…" he turned to David and asked, "What's your brother's name again?"

"Jeff."

"…a Mr. Jeffrey Freeman if you please," Marty asked Biff.

"Sure, no problem; kid, the phone's for you, some vacuum sales guy," Biff handed the phone to Jeff. "Yes?" he asked, clearly puzzled.

"You're Jeff?" Marty asked him.

"Yes, who is this?"

"I'm Marty McFly, I'm here with your brother," Marty told him, "Are we being recorded?"

"No, they didn't bring a tap," Jeff told him.

"Good," Marty breathed a big internal sigh of relief, "Look, my friends are I are bringing your brother back, but we really don't know where you are in Fort Lauderdale. Could you give us the street address?"

"Um," Jeff was noticing the stern look Scroeder was giving him, as if the security man knew something was amiss, "No sir, I can't give you any specific instructions. Just look for a sign though; I'll do my best to make sure you can find us."

"Well, that's not quite what I hoped for, but I guess that's as good as any given Biff's there," Marty shrugged, "My pal the Doc says we should be arriving in Fort Lauderdale around eight-thirtyish, but don't tell anyone, OK?"

"No problem there," Jeff said, "Can I have a brief word with David if he's there?"

"Just make sure it's brief," Marty handed the phone to David, who struck up a warm but hurried conversation with his brother.

"Excuse me, children, excuse me," Doc rushed over to the spaceship. A station wagon had pulled up to the pump while they'd been on the phone, and the two children were now hovering around the spaceship's stairs, treating it almost like a plaything. "Children," Doc addressed them, "This is not a playground. This is a serious piece of heavy machinery that could be somewhat easily damaged."

"We're not hurting it," the boy protested, "See, I put my foot here and nothing happens."

"Kids, come on away from there, you might break it," their father called to them from near the car. He turned to the nearby owner and said, "Boy, it's amazing how you can make it float like that."

The owner said nothing. He was still too much in shock.

"Well, if my calculations are correct, we're still pretty much on time," Doc theorized, checking one of his numerous watches, "I saw in the yellow pages in the store that there's a Lowe's about sixty miles from here. That's bound to have the electrical generators we need. Then all we have to do is get over Fort Lauderdale without being shot down, set the circuits for 1978, and God willing send David back to his proper time."

"Sure Doc," Marty mumbled, thinking of David's early death again.

"You seem troubled, Marty; is something disturbing you?" Doc had noticed his expression. Marty knew he couldn't keep it inside anymore. "Doc, I heard what you and Mr. Szelinski said about what happens to David back in Hill Valley," he told the scientist, "Now I know how it's better of the continuum is restored and all that, but for the love of God, we can't just send the kid back to die!"

A wave of both guilt and resolve crossed Doc's face. "I understand how you're feeling Marty," he said, "I have reservations about it as well. But unfortunately that's just a chance we'll have to take. I wish there could be another way but unfortunately there isn't."

"What do you mean there isn't, Doc? It's not like anyone's going to die just because he's been taken into the future!" Marty said, unaware of what had just happened at NASA, "We could pick up his family, fly them somewhere safe, and they could start over again. You and I know Catledge wants the spaceship more than David. We could lead them away and let him and his folks run for it. You see what I'm saying Doc, he doesn't have to die!"

He realized his voice had risen a bit in desperation. Doc took a long look over and David on the phone and sighed deeply. "Well," the scientist said, "Since we will be heading to Fort Lauderdale, I suppose we could given him the choice to stay with his family here and now. After all, part of the human experience is having free choice at all times. Now that you bring that up, that might be the only viable option if by some chance my calculations were off and temporal displacement can't occur, which hopefully will not be the case."

"You won't regret this, Doc," Marty told him.

David ran back over. "We're all set," he told them, "Jeff'll have it all ready for us." He stared at them. "Is something wrong?" he asked them.

"Uh, no," Doc said quickly, "Why don't we hop up on board and get going so we can pick up the generators we need."

"Sounds good," David followed them on board. Behind them, the father was all set to take a picture of his family with the ship in the background. He almost dropped the camera in shock as they zoomed up into the sky and out of sight. "How did it do that?" he asked the owner.

"He said he wanted to phone home," the owner moaned softly, even now still not over the shock.


	16. Home to Fort Lauderdale

SIXTEEN

July 18, 1986

5:07 p.m. EDT

"Dr. Catledge, the Overlorder's arrived," Gately informed his boss.

"Good, Catledge smiled darkly, "Have they armed it?"

"They're doing it is we speak, sir," Gately said, "Shall we go see it?"

"By all means; come on Haeckel," Catledge and his dog followed Gately into the elevator. "Next stop, ground floor, Gately said, pressing the basement button.

"I don't approve of humor," Catledge glared at him.

"Sorry sir," Gately apologized. The doors opened to reveal the basement hangar, and in the middle of it was a long gray vehicle that looked like a flattened bus with gun ports all over. "The finest military technology in its class," Catledge said proudly, running a finger along it, "And it's all mine to use on Green."

"ONLY one in its class," Gately added. "Have you got the plutonium rigged up?" he asked a technician.

"We put it into this missile here," the technician pointed to a bomb rigged to the vehicle's starboard side, "Just don't hit any buttons prematurely or it won't be pretty."

Catledge nodded and dialed the nearest phone. "Faraday, where are they now?" he asked his associate.

"They're only giving me an overly general position with the radar now, Dr. Catledge," Faraday told him, "But they're still somewhere along Florida's west coast. We're about twenty miles north of West Palm Beach about now, so barring traffic we'll be in Fort Lauderdale within the next hour and a half or so."

"Keep an eye on them for me and give me updates; I'll be joining you in Lauderdale soon," Catledge said as he hung up. "Haeckel, you're shotgun," he told his dog as he opened the Overlorder's door, which was similar to the DeLorean's in nature. Haeckel eagerly jumped up into the passenger seat. "How come he gets shotgun, sir?" Gately protested.

"He has seniority," Catledge told him, "You're navigator, Gately, so get in place."

Gately shrugged and sat down in a seat with a large control panel around the middle of the Overlorder. The interior was stainless steel and loaded with weapons control panels. "Engines start," Catledge told the main console as he took his place in the driver's seat. The machine roared to life. "Hang on tight," he said, throwing the controls to Drive. The Overlorder screamed out of the hangar and toward the main gate. "Boy sir, you sure know how to make a fast vehicle," Gately complimented him.

"Zero to eighty in five seconds is a concept I love," Catledge licked his lips, "As well as intimidating firepower. Let's just hope White doesn't cop out at the last minute."

* * *

July 18, 1986

5:31 p.m.

"All right, there's got to be a familiar highway or landmark around here somewhere," Newton shrugged, looking over the myriad maps that had been set up on the floor of the spacecraft.

"What landmarks?" Amy asked him, "This is Florida, everything's flat."

"I just knew we should have made that left turn at Albuquerque," Johnny-5 commented in a Bugs Bunny voice.

"Funny you didn't bring that up when we were around Albuquerque," Marty told the robot. Somehow they'd drifted off course since they'd last stopped, and Doc's compass had run out of power with its batteries. "Come on Max," he asked their alien benefactor, "There's got to be some sort of navigation thing you can do here now that you have your star charts back."

"I can…" Max started to say, but was distracted by something out the window. "You never told me you built a replica of Phaelon's Hall of Information," he exclaimed looking at a large familiar sphere in front of them.

"No, that's Spaceship Earth at Epcot Center," Doc informed him. The scientist looked relieved. "At least now we're getting somewhere," he said, "Finding Disney is perhaps the best bet we had landmark wise."

"This is all new," David was amazed by Epcot below him, "If this is Disney, than they've really built onto it since I was last here. I've got to check some of this out."

"Just don't go too low or…watch it!!" Doc noticed they were about to hit a loaded scaffold of sorts near Spaceship Earth, but was too late to avoid a hit, sending everyone on it plummeting into yet another manure truck below. Doc yanked the spaceship controls to neutral and spun it around. He glanced at the mayhem below through his futuristic binoculars. "That was a close one," he breathed, "We could have killed Michael Eisner just now." Then he added, strangely, "Although granted, that might not have necessarily been a bad thing."

"All right, you can't just keep throwing out these things about people and events I don't know yet," David looked a little frustrated, "Just tell me, who is Michael Eisner?"

"A man who in the future will show exactly why money and power are bad things to aim to get in your life," Doc told him, "And I'm afraid that's all I can tell you on it."

Below in the manure truck, Eisner sputtered as he tried to clean off his once-immaculate tuxedo. His eyes shot skyward at the object that had caused the problem. "Frank," he asked his associate with more than just a little fear in his voice, "Do you see what I see!?"

"I think so, Mike," Frank Wells told him. His eyes great inspired. "Say Mike, maybe we could use this for our next film or so?" he asked his superior, "I mean, I don't think anyone's done a film about a big silver spaceship before."

"Yeah sure, Frank," Eisner snorted, as the craft zoomed out away from Epcot, "Who would honestly pay to see a film about a big silver spaceship? Not even a three year old would be interested in that. And besides, no one wants to bring up anything with manure trucks. Go call my assistant and tell her I want this mess cleaned off me pronto."

"So we found Disney and all, but where do we go now? "Wayne inquired as they headed toward Orlando proper.

"Judging by what I've seen of Epcot's directional layout form the future, we should head that way toward the Gulf," Doc pointed to his right, "Luckily we should be on a direct line with the aforementioned Lowe's now. Once we're done there, we should probably hug the coast until we get back to Fort Lauderdale."

"Gotcha," David zoomed the spacecraft in the specified direction. It was ten minutes later when they touched down in a swamp behind the Lowe's. "Let me come with you this time," the boy requested of Doc as the stairs morphed out.

"I suppose we could accommodate that," Doc said, "After all, it's not like everyone in the country's after you. You can help us pick out the generators."

The Lowe's was far more crowded than Marty could have imagined. To make things more stressful, the electrical generators, as they found out from a clerk, were all the way in the back of the store. After all the stressful time spent trying to load them into their shopping carts, they also found that there was only one cashier on duty at the checkout. A long and tortuous wait began, with Doc constantly glancing at his watches and muttering something under his breath. It was almost forty minutes later when they reached the register. "Will you be paying cash or credit?" the cashier asked them as they heaved the generators up onto the checkout.

"Cash," Doc told her.

"OK, it comes to $145.97," she told him. Doc pulled some money out of his pocket with a free hand and gave it to her. The cashier frowned. "This isn't money," she told him.

"Well of course it is, it's certified…" Doc took a closer look at the bills he gave her. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, "I gave you some of my 1830s dollars by mistake."

"Your what?" the cashier raised her eyebrows.

"Um, uh, well, uh,…" Doc looked back and noticed there was no one behind him or heading for the register at the moment. "You know what, this is all just a bad dream," he said, and with that held the Alpha Rhythm Generator to her face.

"Very nice Doc," Marty commented as the cashier slumped asleep on the conveyor belt, "Now you're really starting to overuse it."

"I couldn't think of anything else to do," Doc shrugged, pulling out 1980s dollars and putting them in the open register drawer to pay for the generators.

"Hey look Doc, we made the news," Marty pointed to the television the cashier had set up next to the register. A big image of the spaceship was behind the anchor as he announced the news. "…sightings have continued all today, and many Floridians have taken to watching the skies for this strange phenomenon," he was saying, "Officials have stated they have no idea what may be causing these appearances, and are not sure if the apparent flying saucers are life threatening. We'll have more on this story as it unfolds. In other news, an accident took the life of an intern at NASA this afternoon. Twenty-three year old Carolyn MacAdams was mopping the floor on one of the higher floor of NASA's Kennedy Building when she slipped and fell five stories out an open window. Officials are examining the cause of death for…"

"WHAT!!??" Marty exclaimed at the top of his lungs, utterly shocked and horrified at what he was just hearing. He knew deep down that whatever had happened to Carolyn was not an accident as they were describing it.

"No!" if anything, David was ten times more horrified than Marty was at the news, "Carolyn! Why…?"

"I can tell you why in one word: Catledge," Doc said with grave and somber expression on his face, "He must have traced her to us and gone into his Gestapo information routine, which must have turned ugly. I've know him to have done the same to other people, and after the circumstances with her father and all, it was perhaps natural that he'd be too harsh on her."

"What happened with her father and Dr. Catledge?" Marty had to know.

"Back in the late 60s, her father Major MacAdams was part of Catledge's research team for weapons advancement," Doc explained, "Only Catledge didn't tell anyone on the project that. As far as they knew, they were working to create the next high-grade fertilizer. But what they were really making was Agent Orange. To make a long story short, Major MacAdams eventually became aware of the horrific effect this concoction was having on the ecosystem of Southeast Asia and tried to complain to Catledge about it. When Catledge told him through his aides that he was sure he was making the whole story up, Major MacAdams broke the whole story to the press, and for once in his life, Catledge was forced to abandon the project and scale back the military's usage of Agent Orange. But he also took the chance to wreck Major MacAdams's career, and at last check the poor man, after going all over the country to base after base, drank himself to death in disgrace up at a weather station in northern Alaska. Very tragic."

"She was the only friend I had here!" David burst into tears and buried his head in Doc's side, "She didn't deserve to die over me! Tell me you can change this, Dr. Brown!?"

"I think we can," Doc said with great resolve, "Assuming we can successfully send you back to 1978, this horrible event will be erased from existence, and Miss MacAdams will be alive and well. And because Catledge has to stoop to killing people now, he's given us the best ace in the hole we could have. Marty get the generators; we've got to make things right."

Marty nodded blankly and put them back into the cart. As much as he didn't want to see David die in the past, he couldn't let Carolyn's death in the present be the way things would turn out. He knew he had to put his reservations aside for the better.

* * *

July 18, 1986

7:16 p.m.

"Howard, you know I like the people I work with to be punctual," Scroeder told his associate over the phone.

"Scroeder, it's not my fault!" Marner protested, "There was a major accident on I-95 just south of Palm Beach, and we've been locked up in traffic for an hour. It's just starting to break up now. Expect us there in about a half hour or so now."

"You and the others better get here quick, Howard, because if I have to spend the night with Mr. Moron Tannen, I'll scream!" Scroeder growled. Then he added, "On a lighter note, Howard, we're all set up here in case they try to run for it or fight back when they show up."

"Be careful Scroeder, they do have Number Five with them," Marner warned him, "For all we know he's probably still malfunctioning."

"Don't be a worrywart, Howard, if that blasted robot moves its laser one inch I'll blow it clean into the scrap heap," Scroeder reassured him, "Where are they now, just so I know?"

"Uh, at last check, radar has them passing over the Keys and heading toward Miami," Marner told him, "They're going a lot slower now, almost as if something's on their mind."

"Well maybe they know we're coming and know what we'll do to them if they resist," Scroeder suggested, "Call me again when you're actually here in Lauderdale."

He hung up. "Duke, get Task Force B around the back of the house!" he yelled out the window to one of his aides, "They might not just land in front for us!"

"Bang, Baltic Avenue, you owe me rent!" Biff shouted excitedly from the floor where he was forcing the Freemans to play Monopoly with him.

"You can't take that much!" Mr. Freeman protested as Biff helped himself to a large portion of the money.

"Yeah, well, like I said earlier, I've got the gun and you don't, so you're just going to let me do whatever I want," Biff told him, twirling it for good measure. He rolled the dice and moved ahead four spaces. I'm buying North Carolina Avenue off you, toots," he told Mrs. Freeman, gesturing for the deed.

"Take it, take all of it," she sighed, tossing all of her holdings at him, "I'm folding."

"OK then, put on CBS while you're at it, I'm not missing the Price is Right Special at the top of the hour," Biff told her.

"Uh, I need to go to the bathroom," Jeff said abruptly, rising.

"Yeah sure kid, make it quick," Biff said, waving him off. Scroeder rolled his eyes and walked back outside to check his men's progress.

* * *

July 18, 1986

7:48 p.m.

"There's Miami Beach," Nick pointed at the waterfront below them in the sunset, "We're almost there."

"Good," Newton said, still looking exhausted even though he'd taken a nap, "This has been the longest day of my life."

"I'm still going strong," Johnny-5 whirled around in place like Tony Manero and doing several Saturday Night Fever dance moves.

"Glad we can count on you, Johnny-5," Doc said. The scientist was hooking up the last of the generators. "All finished here," he said, "If my calculations are correct, we've now reached the threshold of 5.78 jigowatts."

"Hmm," Max zoomed over and examined Doc's handiwork, "I don't know. It still doesn't look perfect. If we were doing it on Phaelon, it would be perfect."

"What are you saying?" Marty spoke up, "That you don't trust us?"

"It's not that I don't trust," Max told him, "Since I've never done anything like this before, I can only assume it won't work."

"It'll work," Doc said, "You can trust me on it. It HAS to work. A human life hangs in the balance for this."

"I don't know," Max did the equivalent of shaking one's head, "Human time travel is still just too dangerous to attempt in my opinion."

"We HAVE to try it Max!" David spoke up, getting emotional again, "If Carolyn ends up staying dead, I'd never forgive myself!"

"Hey, it's not your fault Catledge killed her, Dave," Marty patted him on the shoulder, "Don't go blaming yourself. We're going to try and send you back even if it kills us. We're going to make sure she's alive again."

"Please don't say that Marty!" Amy scolded him.

"Sorry," Marty apologized. "So anyway, Max, what're you going to do once we finish up with all this?" he asked the alien.

"I'll return all my other specimens back to the time and place I picked them up," Max said, gesturing toward the other alien life forms, "By now they're so hungry they could eat a zickzar."

"A what?" Wayne frowned.

"Kind of like a hippo, but with feathers," Max explained.

"Well, just make sure you don't leave any paradoxes when you return them," Doc said, "And in the future of this planet's continuum, if they need any more Earth subjects for research on Phaelon, try to take a non-human life form. It would be less detrimental. And besides, I really don't want to go through this again." He looked to the north. "Zero hour'll be within a half hour or so," he said, smiling at the thought of finally ending the paradox in the continuum, "We must make the preliminary preparations for the temporal displacement."

* * *

July 18, 1986

8:14 p.m.

"Great, new car!" Biff said as he watched Bob Barker introduce the next prize, "I bet they're going to play Drinko for it."

"It's 'Plinko,' and they don't play it for cars," Mrs. Freeman corrected him.

"You know, I really don't like the blatant cynicism I'm hearing in this house," Biff said, "If you're not careful, I might do something about it."

Scroeder came back inside. "Get on your feet, men, they're about to enter Broward County airspace!" he instructed them, "They should be here within fifteen minutes or so!"

"Sounds good, Scroed," Biff told him, "Care to join us while we wait?"

"Tannen, did the other son ever come back from the bathroom?" Scroeder inquired.

"Uh, not yet," Biff admitted, "He did have a lot to eat at dinner, so I can imagine…"

"Tannen, did it ever occur to you that he might have pulled a fast one on you!?" Scroeder said roughly, "Get off your lazy rear and find him. He could be helping them as we speak!"

"But the lady here could win a new car!" Biff protested, pointing at the TV screen.

"NOW!!!!" Scroeder roared in his face.

"Fine, fine, have it your way!" Biff grumbled at loud as he rose to his feet, "But this is the last time I work with you!"

"Thank God!" Scroeder shouted back.

Biff sauntered up the stairs. "Hey kid, you in there still?" he asked, pushing open the bathroom door. It was completely deserted. "Come on out kid," he called looking in each and every upstairs, "Don't make Uncle Biff mad."

He heard a sizzle outside the window. He turned to see something bright whiz by. Nodding, he ran up the attic stairs and stuck his head out the window. Jeff was on the roof, trying to light firecrackers, but each one failed to go off. Biff smiled and climbed up onto the roof. "Hey kid, whatdya think you're doing up here?" he called to David's brother.

"Uh, nothing, really," Jeff said, looking nervous, "Just a little, um, bird migration thing."

"I don't think so," Biff drew his gun, "Why don't you just be a nice kid and come back into the house? It's not good to lie to somebody about using the bathroom when you're not going to actually use it."

"Look, I don't have time to…" Jeff tried to protest.

"No use arguing, kid," Biff put the gun right in his face, "Just do what Uncle Biff tells you and come on with me."

"Hey what's that!?" Jeff pointed up into the twilight sky. Biff fell for it completely and looked up. Jeff picked up the heavy firework box and biffed Biff in the face with it. "Oh waiter, can I have some menus here at Table 10?" Biff asked dazedly. Then he keeled sideways off the roof into the bushes below. Jeff breathed a big sigh of relief and went back to trying to light the stubborn fireworks.

On the other side of Fort Lauderdale, the spaceship had stopped. "Well, where's the sign they said was coming?" Stephanie asked, scanning the darkening skies for anything.

"Maybe we can't see it from here?" Amy suggested.

"Not likely," Doc told her, "This location in the sky offers a view of the entire Fort Lauderdale metro area. I know because the plane we flew in on for the convention passed right over this same vicinity. We would see something if they had it coming. I would prefer if we not hover around here like this, though. Catledge will probably have the nearest air force bases' jets up and running within minutes, and…."

"Hey Doc, look over there!" Marty pointed behind the tall building in front of them. Fireworks were exploding high in the sky. "I guess that's the sign."

"Yes!" David pumped his fists in delight, "Great going, Jeff. You came through for us."

"So I guess your brother isn't as bad after all," Marty asked him.

"Nope," David said, "I'll never underestimate him again, even when he does bug me."

Out in front of the Freemans, Scroeder ran out to the front of the yard and watched more fireworks go off. The security man quickly put two and two together. "They're approaching!" he shouted to his men, "Get those searchlights on now, go, go, go!"

His team threw the switches and aimed the searchlights at the now dark skies. There was a roar of engines as the NASA convoy arrived. "Scroeder, where are they?" Marner asked as he and Faraday ran over.

"We'll know in a minute or two, Howard," Scroeder said, "We should have visuals any second now."

Moments later, Catledge pulled the Overlorder quietly up to the side of the house. "Now we wait," he told Haeckel and Gately, "And if they run for it, we go after them. All we do is switch it to the Air/Space setting and follow them as long as it takes."

Up in the spaceship, Marty frowned as he and the others watched the searchlights illuminate the Fort Lauderdale sky. "That's not good," he admitted.

"Lights, searchlights, Twentieth Century-Fox," Johnny-5 buzzed, pointing at them.

"No, that's not Twentieth Century-Fox," Newton said dismally, "They've been waiting for us."

"Oh no!" David groaned, "Why won't they leave me alone!!?"

"Because that's Dale Catledge's way," Doc told him, "They're all desperate."

"Well, at least we brought you home, David," Max told his subject.

"You call that…," Stephanie pointed to the dozens of security people running around on the Freemans' lawn, "…home?"

"What should I do, Dr. Brown?" David asked him.

"The choice is all yours, David," Doc said solemnly, "The choice is all yours."


	17. Final Showdown with Catledge

SEVENTEEN 

July 18, 1986

8:39 p.m. EDT

Ever so slowly, the spaceship sank to earth. The Freemans came running out of their house, desperate to see their son. Biff staggered out of the bushes, still dazed. "When I get my hands on that kid…!!" he groaned to himself. Then he saw the ship touching down. He rubbed his hands in delight. "The jackpot's back on!" he said gleefully.

Inside the spaceship, everyone was on edge as the door morphed open. David took several deep breaths and started down the stairs. Even from where he was standing, Marty couldn't mistake the tasers and other tranquilizing devices several of the security men in the rear were holding. "Just don't get killed," he whispered under his breath.

Faraday took Scroeder's megaphone. "David, step away from the spaceship please," he instructed the boy, "We mean you no harm here."

"Come here son," Mr. Freeman gestured affectionately. His wife followed suit. For a few minutes David stared at all before him. Then he made his decision. "I'm sorry, I don't belong here," he called to everyone and ran back up the steps into the ship.

"Stop him, stop that ship!" Scroeder yelled to his men. He hefted a machine gun and fired away at the ship, even though it was clear mere bullets would have no effect on it. His fellow security personnel followed suit as it rose into the sky until it was out of range. "Damn!" Scroeder cursed as it disappeared from sight.

"So what do we do now, Scroed?" Biff asked as he came over, still watching the heavens.

Scroeder grabbed him by the collar. "Call me Scroed one more time and I tear your head off!" he threatened him, "But in the meantime, we'll scramble the jets for intercept, have them bring it down by force."

There was a loud, almost apocalyptic horn blast as the Overlorder pulled up in front. Catledge stuck his head out the door. "Scroeder, get in, we're going after it," the supreme scientist told him.

"Me too," Biff plowed his was into the vehicle. "Wow, what's this thing?" he asked, amazed by all he saw.

"The Overlorder," Gately told him, "The most sophisticated weapons system ever built, able to deliver horrific destruction with innumerable weaponry: missile, lasers, rockets, bombs, you name it. And best yet, it can seamlessly adapt to land, sea and air maneuvering, including the far reaches of space."

"Oh, so it's kind of what Dr. Claw drives, then?" Biff asked, examining several control panels.

"Sort of, yes."

"Tannen, sit down somewhere where you can't cause any trouble and fasten your seatbelt; we're going up after them," Catledge said, reversing the Overlorder and peeling down a side street, "We're going to blow Emmett Black clean out of the sky into a fiery grave."

"What about the kid?" Biff asked, "You'll kill him too."

"I have the technology I need, Tannen, so the child is of no more use to me. He can perish in the crash too for all I care," Catledge told him. He activated the radio. "Tell them to keep the A1A bridge raised until further notice and clear out the road; I need a clear trajectory," he ordered someone on the other end as they tore down a side street toward the south end of Fort Lauderdale. After he was about a half mile from the Intercoastal Waterway, he swerved wildly back toward A1A and threw the master terrain switch from Land to Air/Space. Immediately the Overlorder started shifting shape. Wings with jet and rocket engines burst out from the sides, a tail and fins rose up, and the vehicle started getting more streamlined. Haeckel howled, apparently knowing what was about to happen. "Be a man, you lousy dog!" Catledge warned it. For a few minutes he stayed in neutral in the middle of A1A, gunning the engine until it got high pitched, like a jumbo jet's just before takeoff. Then he floored it, and the Overlorder rocketed up the highway at well over a hundred miles an hour, roared up the nearly vertical section of the drawbridge, and rose up high into the Floridian night. "This is fun!" Biff exclaimed, apparently not caring about the 7 Gs or so they were experiencing, "You should spin this off into a thrill ride, Dr. Catledge!"

Catledge said nothing. He kept his eyes steeled toward the black heavens before him, apart from an occasional glance at the radar so he'd know where his quarry was. The radio buzzed, but due to the static of them leaving radio space, he could barely hear Faraday on the other end asking, "Dr. Catledge, I think they're heading to the north a little. Dr. Catledge, are you there? Dr. Catledge?"

Back on the ground, Marner slumped his head. "At least ten million dollars right down the drain," he said sadly to Faraday, "Some luck I have."

"We'll get them back, I promise," Faraday told him firmly.

"Faraday!" before the scientist could fully react, Mr. Freeman had slugged him in the face. "I'll see you in court!" he told him as he staggered off, clutching a bleeding nose, "I'll see all of you in court!"

"Great," Marner said glumly, "But before we get to court, could you show me where the nearest bar is? I really need to get drunk right now."

* * *

"Human time travel is just too dangerous!" Max was still protesting as they rose high above the clouds over Fort Lauderdale.

"I don't care!" David told him, "I want to go home, and I order you as the Navigator to take me there!"

"But I did take you home!" the alien said.

"Alien life form, listen to me carefully!" Doc took hold of him and looked him straight in his eye, "One of things we do here on earth is appeal to one's emotions, even if it runs contrary to reason. The fact is David wants to go back to 1978 because he's happier there than he is here. It would be criminal of you not to want to assist him in achieving that desire!"

"But your system of temporal displacement isn't up to my usual specifications!" Max said.

"Trust me, it'll work!" Doc said, frustrated, "Look, it's worked perfectly all the times I've done it before. You may perceive all earthly technology to be inferior, and I'm sure in many ways it is, but it'll be successful. But I need your assistance to do it successfully, so if this will work, you'll have to uphold your part of the bargain we agreed on earlier. Now I'm drawing a line," he drew a mark on the floor with his foot, only find nothing came up due to its spotlessness. "Well anyway," he went on, "All who want to give temporal displacement a chance cords this line."

There was a rush as everyone crossed the line. Marty hesitated for a brief second, still feeling he should say something about David's premature death, but shook his head and walked over. Max lowered his "head" in resignation. "Very well," he said, "We must begin the journey then."

"Very good," Doc became quite animated. He ran over to the corner and dumped out the contents of the big sack he'd brought along. "Now, since Catledge had to go ruin the party down there, we're going to have to jump," he said.

"Wait a minute, JUMP!!?? From two miles above the earth!?" Amy was aghast.

"Don't worry, I have all the precautions in place for a feat of this nature," Doc erected what looked like a giant microscope. "I'll have to ask you all to stand under here," he said, "We need to protect our bodies upon reentry."

"What exactly is that, Doc?" Marty had to know.

"Fortunately I was able to obtain several spin-offs from the space program in the 25th century," Doc said, "One of which was this self-body shielder. It coats the body with the same substance used on heat-deflecting tiles used today on the space shuttle. Don't worry, it's completely harmless to the human body and wears off after twenty-four hours."

He pulled a chain on the side, and a fine mist came down and covered him. "It'll harden with time," he explained, "And while you're all waiting to spray yourselves, have one of these," He opened a pillbox filled with pinkish capsules. "Oxygen tablets," he told them all, "Made chewable for easier usage."

"Neat," Marty took one and started chewing. It tasted like peppermint. "Just breath naturally," Doc instructed him, "That activates the air supply. You should probably take one too, David, it'll get like vacuum in here once the door opens."

"OK," David took one and chewed on it. Marty took his place under the shower and pulled the chain. It felt like a light dousing of dew, but didn't hurt at all. "Yep, good thing you got it, Doc," he agreed.

"I don't need no oxygen pills," Johnny-5 pointed out.

"No, but I think you should still take a shower," Doc gestured toward it, "You would still burn up in the atmosphere unprotected. Don't worry, it won't rust you."

"And finally," Doc picked up a square object, "Our parachutes."

"Just one?" Newton looked very worried.

Doc pressed a button on the side marked CLONE. A second parachute appeared almost if by magic. He pressed the button several times until there were enough chutes for everyone. "To open them, all you have to do is pull first the green, and then the blue cords," he explained, "In additional, you'll need these goggles to protect your eyes from the sun." He handed out several of the goggles in question "These are equipped with normal screening for use inside the stratosphere north of the tropopause extra screening for use about the stratosphere. Press these buttons on the side to activate each level of protection. And now, to set the circuits up."

He tossed Marty the keys to the amplifier. Marty nodded and turned the machine on. "Are you sure with all this power the works won't blow, Doc?" he asked as he set the switches and dials to peak capacity.

"Hopefully all will be well," Doc said, flipping on the generators and setting them at their highest levels. "I don't think the threshold of explosion is close to what we have. "At any rate, time circuits on."

He threw the switch again, and this time the displays stayed on when lit up. "Setting destination time, July 4, 1978, 8:30 p.m.," the scientist said as he punched in the proper date, "Now all we have to do is load up Mr. Fusion."

There was a mad scramble as everyone poured in everything they had: trash, plutonium, the radiation suits, and more. Doc closed the top and hit the fusion button. "And I guess that's everything," he said, "I'm counting on you to do your part with the temporal displacement, Max. Other than that, it's all in your hands, David. Just take this baby up to 111 miles an hour, and you should God willing be back in 1978."

"Wait, a hundred and eleven miles an hour?" Marty frowned.

"Owing to the differences in our technologies, additional velocity will be necessary in this situation," Doc explained.

"Well, I'd like to thank you guys for everything," David said with a bittersweet smile, "It'll be really hard saying goodbye and all. I'll never forget you."

"And we'll never forget you," Marty smiled back equally bittersweet, "You're a great guy, Dave, and you've really made something of yourself today. Whatever comes…"

And then suddenly, from out of nowhere, a loud explosion rocked the side of the ship, sending everyone tumbling over to the port side. "What the hell was that!?" Wayne demanded.

"Oh Dr. Gray!!" came an unmistakable sound from somewhere behind them, "I've got a little present for you!"

Another explosion hit the ship. "Open the door!" Doc shouted to Max. When he did so, the senior scientist gasped in horror at what was behind them. "GREAT SCOTT!!!" he cried, "He's got the Overlorder! I forgot he supplied the essential parts for it!"

"The Over-what?" Marty didn't like the sound of that.

"The ultimate weapon of destruction," Doc told him and everyone, "K.O.N.D.O.R. funded its construction, but due to red tape and malfunctions, it didn't become fully operational until about 2031. But I forgot he had the prototype in his possession!"

"Eat TNT, Brown!" Catledge fired another salvo of missiles at the spaceship. These missiles exploded along the starboard side, and shorted out the circuits so that the Destination Time once again was malfunctioning at January 1, 1885. "Confound it, come on!" Doc swore, kicking the display until it returned to normal. "Evasive maneuvers, quick!" he told David, "But stay over Fort Lauderdale!"

"How am I supposed to know where Fort Lauderdale is!?" David pointed down to the mess of lights in the Florida Peninsula below.

"Just take your best guess!" Doc told him.

Marty picked up the nearest radio. "Look you guys!" he shouted into it, "You don't want to do this!"

"Hey McFly, you know what they say!" Biff shouted over the radio as he launched several rockets at the ship, "If you can't stand the heat, stay outta Phoenix!!"

"It's the kitchen, Biff, 'If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen!'" Marty corrected him, not really knowing what else to do. Laser blasts rocked them now.

Johnny-5," Doc asked the robot, "Would you mind doing one last favor for me? See if you can disable them with a well placed laser shot or two."

"You gotcha big daddy," Johnny-5 zoomed back to the very front of the ship. "Happy trails, Davey," he told the boy in a John Wayne voice.

"Happy trails, Johnny-5," David patted him on the sensors. Johnny-5 turned on his laser. "Consider yourself terminated," he now said in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice as he peeled at high speed toward the door. Once he'd gone into space, he fired at the Overlorder.

"Watch it, it's that blasted robot!" Scroeder shouted, but it was too late; the laser hit the front grill of the Overlorder and exploded it. The weapon of destruction started sagging back toward the atmosphere, burning hotly.

"Yes!" Doc pumped his fists in delight. "All right, women and children first," he announced, handing out parachutes.

"Uh, are you sure we can't just land now that they're up here?" Amy asked nervously, "I'd rather not…"

"Come one Amy, if Dr. Brown says it's safe, it'll be safe," Nick dragged her toward the door.

"Now come on Nick, I think your getting just a…NICK!!!" Amy's plea went unanswered as he half-dragged her out into space.

"Well, I guess we're next," Newton took Stephanie's hand, "It was nice getting to know you, David."

"it was great to…" David started to say.

"Uh Doc, I think we've got a little problem here with the generators!" Marty pointed at them. Two of them were dying completely. Doc flicked them back up to no avail. "Great Scott!" he groaned, "This seriously takes away from our energy capacity!"

"Well can you fix it?" David asked, worried, "I can't just be stuck here now!"

"I don't know!" Doc put his hand to his face, "There's no other conceivable way I can think of to generate an additional 0.45 jigowatts that we'd need for temporal displacement!"

"So it was all for nothing?" Marty groaned.

"No it's not!" Wayne broke open his case, "Use my machine, Dr. Brown."

"What?" You'd be willing to sacrifice you're life's work for this?" Marty was amazed.

"Well, admittedly no, but I think there's something a little more valuable at stake here," Wayne stroked his machine lovingly before, admittedly with reluctance, handing it over to his mentor.

Doc smiled. "Thank you Wayne, this construes something of great selflessness," he said, "Just like I always taught in our classes. Yes, Looking over your system here, I'd say this machine would generate about two-thirds of a jigowatt, more than enough! Help me plug it in!"

Back in the Overlorder, Catledge, threw several switches. "Haeckel, hit that switch next to you marked Fire Control!" he ordered his dog. Haeckel did so, and the blaze up front was extinguished. "OK, now I'm really mad!" Catledge roared, throwing a few more power dials. The Overlorder rose back up, "I'm going to ram all my plutonium right down your throat!"

"Go nail them, sir!" Gately encouraged his boss as he hit the activation switch for the plutonium missile on the Overlorder's side.

Back inside the ship, Doc secured the shrinking machine to the circuits. He threw a switch, and power zipped from the ray to the time controls. "Perfect," the scientist gave it a thumbs up. "All the rest of you go."

Wayne nodded as he, Newton, and Stephanie jumped. "Well, it's all in your hands now," Doc told David, "I know you'll do well."

"And remember Dave," Marty said, feeling he had to at least clear his conscience a little bit, "Like Doc always tells me, your future hasn't been written yet, so whatever happens, make sure you make the right choices."

"I will," David told him, "I'll always remember you, Marty."

"And for you, Max, I wish your research the best back on Phaelon," Doc told the alien, "If you need anything in the future—or the present, or whatever, give me a call back here on earth."

"You know it, Doc," Max told him. Then he slumped down and became reddish in his iris. "What's he doing now?" Marty asked.

"Starting temporal displacement," Doc said, "It's time we take our leave of…"

"WATCH OUT!!!" Marty's cry came too late. There was an unexpectedly large dent in the side of the spaceship, and whatever had caused it was ticking. "Great Scott, an H-bomb!" Doc recognized it immediately, "David, get this baby up to 111 mph now! It's going to blow in less than thirty seconds!"

"Right!" David floored it. Marty followed his friend over to the door of the spaceship, Doc stopping to wave goodbye to the shrunken Libyans, who Marty knew they'd likely never see again. Below them the earth was shrouded in nighttime darkness. "All right," Doc said, lowering the protective layers on his goggles and motioning for Marty to do the same, "One for the money, two for the show, three for the continuum, and here we go!!"

The two of them dove out into space. Ahead of them, Catledge laughed sadistically. "I've got you now, Brown," he said, flicking another switch that activated a large blade on the front of the Overlorder. "It's time to die!" he snarled, rocketing straight toward his enemy. Both Marty and Doc saw him coming and just managed to swim to the sides as the Overlorder buzzed by. Catledge started to turn around to lunge at them again….

"Where'd that spaceship go!?" Scroeder yelled, pointing at the space it had previously been in. It had vanished completely into thin air. The plutonium warhead was still there, however, and it fell onto the windshield of the Overlorder. Everyone inside had just enough time to scream before it detonated in a huge blaze of light, incinerating them.

"Don't look at the blast!" Doc pulled Marty's head away from it, "We'll be safe; our body shields protect against radiation. I sure hope David made it back in time, though, otherwise a discharge of this size may well have catastrophic effects on the planet after fallout!"

"When do you think we'll know, Doc?" Marty had to shout to be heard above the screaming turbulence of the exosphere.

"If my calculations are correct, we'll know in about three minutes once we're safely back in the atmosphere," Doc said, crossing his fingers.


	18. A Few Final Surprises

EIGHTTEEN

July 18, 1986

9:03 p.m. EDT

The air around Marty started glowing red hot as he free fell back to earth. Soon he could see nothing at all, just red blurs. Due to all of Doc's protective measures, however, he felt no harm at all. It was like the ultimate rush.

Finally, after a few minutes, the turbulence subsided and the sky became clear and blue under the light of the moon. "This is great, Doc!" he called out to his friend as they sailed through the scattered cumulous clouds over the ocean.

"Indeed," Doc agreed. Once they were through the clouds, the scientist called out, "OK, open chutes!"

"Right," Marty pulled the cords, and his chute opened with a loud snap. He instinctually grabbed for the newspaper he'd picked up the other day, which he'd been carrying with him through the whole journey. Sure enough, it was now starting to change. But it didn't change into what Marty had expected.

"Doc, look at this!" he shouted excitedly, "He made it back! And he's still alive!"

"Let me see that!" Doc pressed some buttons on his parachute that activated some thrusters that sent him jetting over to his young friend. The article, which had previous announced David's finding after eight years, now read FREEMAN'S DRAMATIC NINETH INNING HOMER LIFTS CANES TO COLLEGE WORLD SERIES TITLE and showed an image of a University of Miami player connecting on a longball. A very familiar looking player. "Great Scott!" Doc yelled happily, "It worked exactly as I'd hoped! We've succeeded in our mission even more than I would have expected!"

"So that means Miss MacAdams is still alive, right?" that was something else that had been grating on Marty's conscience.

"And Catledge has not harmed my family at all!" Doc added, "In short, no evil has transpired!"

He tossed the paper up in the air in ecstasy. Flushed with joy, Marty looked down to see the ocean looming large below them. "So, uh, Doc, are we going to have to swim half a mile back to shore?" he asked, a little worried now.

"Not at all," Doc pulled a small rubbery object from his pant pocket, yanked a cord on the side to inflate it, and dropped in below, "We're going to get a lift from the portable rafts as astronauts will have on them two hundred years from now."

They touched down in the Atlantic a few yards from where the still-inflating raft had landed. "So we get a lift, huh?" Wayne asked as he and the others swam over, their chutes trailing behind in the water.

"Yes, all aboard," Doc gestured to the raft. There was a scrambling for it, particularly from a frantic Amy, once again nervous in the water. "What about me?" Johnny-5 buzzed over, protected by his own personal floatation device that he'd activated before touchdown.

"I think you should have your own personal propulsion system if I read your semantics properly," Doc said, "Race you to the shore."

"You're on, big boy!" Johnny-5 started spinning his third arm like a propeller and rocketed toward the glowing lights of the Fort Lauderdale waterfront ahead of them. Doc started the engine of the raft. "Hang on tight, this goes very fast," he advised the others as they took off after their robot friend.

"Good, Doc, because I'm about ready to crawl back into bed and stay there for about a month," Marty admitted. He was unable to suppress a large yawn. The longest day of his life was thankfully over, and he could now sleep in peace knowing everything was back in order with the cosmos.

* * *

July 19, 1986

4:51 p.m.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention please," the Edison Awards chairman was announcing late the next afternoon, "We will announce the winner of this year's Thomas A. Edison Inventor of the Year Award."

There was scattered applause all over the convention center. From their section of the floor, Doc asided to a melancholy Wayne, "Still feeling guilty about giving up your shrinking machine to get David back in time?"

"Probably'll always be," Wayne said, "It was what I'd built my life toward, and I was really hoping to win the award with it this year."

"Well, let me put your mind at ease and tell you that you did the right thing," Doc reassured him, "And if I win anything with my fusion engine, I'll give you the funds to build another one." He leaned closer to his former pupil and whispered, "But take my advice on this: if you're offered a position at Sterling in Las Vegas, turn it down. It will be very positive for your family and career to reject any offers from that facility."

Before Wayne could respond, the chairman came to the microphone again. "And now for the moment you've all been waiting for," he told them, "The winner of this year's Edison Award is…Dr. Emmett Brown with his fusion engine design."

"Yes!" Marty pumped his fists in delight, "We did it Doc!"

Doc smiled happily as he made his way with his friend to the stage. The applause, Marty thought was surprisingly loud, considering how isolated Doc was in the science community. "Dr. Brown, thank you for delivering such a great design for us," the chairman told him as he handed him the trophy, "And considering everything you went through with Dale Catledge over the last fifty years, I'd say this is a fitting happy ending for you."

"What?" Doc frowned, "What about Dale Catledge?"

The chairman laughed. "Isn't he modest, folks?" he asked the other scientists, who for some bizarre reason Marty couldn't understand were also laughing in a positive way, "Come on Dr. Brown," he went on, "After your eloquent and heartfelt testimony at his federal trial last December about how he framed you for his crimes and almost sold us out to evil powers, it's only fitting that you receive this award after decades of being shunted to the sidelines because of his blacklisting you. And it's even more fitting considering how he was convicted only yesterday."

"WHAT!!??" Doc was both shocked and elated by this unexpected turn of events. Marty had no idea what had happened that had brought them all this good fortune, but he knew how to find out. As Doc went into his off-kilter acceptance speak, the teen rushed across the floor to the newsstand. Inserting a quarter, he pulled out the front most paper. Right on the front page was a picture of Catledge being led toward a police car by federal marshals, swearing at the top of his lungs. "GUILTY" read the big black caption. "What has been called the Trial of the Century came to an end yesterday as Dr. Dale Catledge, formerly one of the most respected men in the nation's scientific community, was convicted of numerous crimes, including embezzling, fraud, perjury, and murder," Marty read off the paper, "Judge Mitchell Bock, calling Catledge a sad excuse for humanity, and perhaps taking into account his numerous attempts to blackmail him and threaten the jury, sentenced him to 5,015 years in the federal penitentiary at San Quentin without the possibility of parole. Hey Doc, read this, you're mentioned!"

Doc, who'd finished his speech early and had followed Marty over, took the paper. "The convincing testimony came from Catledge's former colleague Emmett Brown, who exposed Catledge's dark intentions dating back to World War II during a four-day testimony last month. Brown, who's diary revealing Catledge's theft of plutonium started the investigation into Catledge's crimes eight six years ago, could not be reached for comment at press time. Nine other associates of Catledge were also indicted and sentenced to prison time ranging up to a hundred and fifty years, including NASA Chief Scientific Officer Charles Faraday, who received a fifty year sentence for perjury and misuse of life and property for crimes committed in conjunction with Catledge." The scientist let out a yelp of delight. "We did it Marty! We put that ape behind bars! And it looks like O.J.'s won't be the trial of the century after all!"

"O.J.? O.J. Simpson? What about him?" Marty asked.

Doc groaned and slapped his face again. "Nothing, absolutely nothing?" he said quickly. Then his expression leveled out. "But I see no reason why I'd've handed over my diary to the authorities six years ago when I've never done it my whole life," he pointed out.

"Maybe I can explain that, Dr. Brown," came a voice behind him. Marty's heart leaped. It couldn't be…

"DAVID!!??" he exclaimed. It was almost impossible to believe. But there was the boy they'd just helped get back to his own time, now twenty years old and beaming from ear to ear. "How'd you know where to find us?" the teen asked, amazed.

"I figured you'd be here," David said, "It was in the paper that the great Emmett Brown was going to return to prominence after he was framed as a crackpot by the evil Dale Catledge. By the way, congratulations on your win today, and I think this belongs to you."

He handed Doc a small book. "My diary," Doc exclaimed, "How did you get your hands on it?"

"I picked it up at your place, "David said, "I overheard what you said about how it proved he was guilty and everything he'd done to bring you down, so I borrowed it and gave it to the Broward County sheriff's office in 1980. The rest, as you'll find out, was history."

"So you were listening to that too?" Marty asked.

"Yep," David nodded, "I knew all along. I turned down the dare, all for the better."

"Yes, we saw what you did for the Miami Hurricanes," Marty said, "How's your life been going otherwise?"

"Couldn't be better," David smiled, "I made up with my family. I found out that Carolyn's OK and enrolled at Miami a couple of years before me, so I got a year or so getting back in touch with her, even though she had no idea who I was. And I'm engaged to Jennifer now. We'll be married next August."

"Great, that's wonderful," Marty patted him on the back, "Like I told you, if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

"I know," David said, "Am I right, pukmarin?" he pulled the strange alien creature he'd grown attached to out of his pocket. "You've still got that thing?" Marty was amazed.

"Apparently they live a long time," David shrugged, "So, I was wondering if you two wanted to celebrate your win here with me? My parents were going to take me to one of those big restaurants tonight to celebrate the College World Series win, and you're more than invited."

"It would be an honor," Doc said, "I'll go inform the others of this."

"Good, see you in the parking lot when you're ready," David smiled again and walked outside. "You know Doc," Marty commented as they watched him go, "I know you always say that time travel can screw everything up if it's done the wrong way, but I think that, apart from Hell Valley, we've really made the world a much better place by doing it."

"True," Doc agreed, "However, one's luck cannot last forever and thus I still don't approve of extended time travel usage. But at any rate, I shall go tell the others of this positive development. I can only imagine what else now works in our way since Catledge has fallen."

"I don't know what else, but it's probably good," Marty said as Doc walked back toward the convention center floor. The teen took a deep, pleased breath and walked out into the late Florida afternoon. A strange feeling made him look up abruptly. Something small and metallic looking was passing overhead, something that looked strangely like…

"Nah," Marty shrugged it off. It couldn't be. He walked toward Doc's van and waited for the scientist to come out with the others. It was going to be a great future for all of them.


End file.
